


Bringing the lost crow home

by boxofwonder



Series: Of the Lost [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dystopian Medieval Sci-Fi AU, Look at how we upgraded, More relationships and tags to be added as they become relevant!, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 74,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3870058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofwonder/pseuds/boxofwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'We people of the forest protect our own', is the first unwritten rule, uniting Karasuno and Nekoma.<br/>So when someone important is ripped from them, the joined forces of the Cats and Crows are ready to take the city by storm – which might just turn into the awaited spark to set off a tension built from decades under the rule of a tyrant King.<br/>Caught up in something so much bigger than themselves, they are forced to confront their past, decide who they can really trust, to save who they lost before it is too late. </p><p>A sequel to 'Come and get lost with us'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: A darkened sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Metis_Ink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metis_Ink/gifts).



> Dedicated to Metis_Ink, because without you this sequel would not exist in the first place. You have played such a huge part in the process of finishing Lost with us, and already in plotting and starting Lost Crow. How else could I repay you than dedicating a huge novel length drama to you?

The wide throne room was quiet in the way the sea was the most quiet before it sent its hardest, tallest waves forwards. The only sound were the heavy boots thundering on the polished marvel ground, the noise not lost in the wide room, thrown back by the wide arches of the walls around.

A sound Ushijima had heard many times before, yet never had it filled him with such dread, yet twisted hope.

All the days spent behind a heavy oak desk, nothing but stacks of paper and ink-smudged fingers to show for his reign – wishing for _action,_ something he could do with his own two hands. Right now, he would surrender that chance if it could stop _this._

There was only one fate awaiting a traitor.

“Nothing teaches a lesson like blood,” his advisor had told him, her lips curled in soft satisfaction. Like a conductor shaped the sound of an orchestra, she helped him guide this court, relentless where it mattered, so there would be no room for the weak, for the unreliable and disloyal. All for his own good, for the good of his kingdom. “The punishment for this abhorrent crime will finally right the wrong done upon your family. But this is not all - we will show the rebels once and for all that crossing us is the gravest mistake one could make.”

In response, Ushijima had simply nodded.

Doubt would have been misplaced. There could only be one right choice, as always, and wherever he went, wherever he looked, his advisors made sure to prepare the ground he walked on, a weapon for him to hold, a crown for his head … the right path to take. The right choice to make. This was only another one of them, to ensure that his rule would remain untouchable.

But right now, when all that was needed was a grand gesture for the court to see, when Ushijima wore the formal cloak and felt the crown press down on his head heavily – why was all he could think of blazing eyes and the painful throb of his scar, as if it were a fresh wound all over again -

No.

He steeled his shoulders, resolutely pushing away all that could distract him - awaiting the messenger with the steadiness needed for a man of his position. Acknowledging him with a slight inclination of his head.

“Your Majesty,” the mercenary began, speaking before he had finished a bow in his haste to please. “It has taken years, and many have failed. But finally! Me and my men, we have caught the traitor.”

Ushijima curled his fingers, brushing over the scar on his palm. Which traitor? Enough bowing and self-praise, he needed to _know_ who exactly would hang for their crime. Whether it was -

“I am proud to be able to tell you that all our hard work paid off … we've been with you in this fight ever since the tragic death of your father … we will support you until the end, of course, and -”

“Enough,” Ushijima said calmly, but the man still flinched as if he had been slapped, bowing another time.

“Certainly, certainly!” He clapped, clearly still unable to resist the dramatics of his entrance. “Bring the king's dog!”

King's dog.

It wasn't _him._

For a second, an image flashed before Ushijima – a memory so vivid he could almost feel Tooru's fingers buried in his collar, see that fire in his eyes, hear him demand that -

The sound of the fanfare drowned out the memory before it could conjure Tooru's words, only leaving a lingering sense of guilt, of dread, of pressure at the pit of his stomach as Ushijima watched the chained man be pushed forwards, stumble and catch himself.

Beneath the bruises and injuries he had suffered, perhaps, he had used to look healthy. A lot older than Ushijima remembered him, of course. Part of him had always hoped to never see the little servant boy again, simply because it meant that perhaps he’d be able to live a life away from his volatile past. Just as Tooru had always wished he would.

Part of Ushijima understood why someone in this situation would have killed the former king, but in the end he only resented that murderer. Maybe, if things had been different - he wouldn’t have to bear this crown yet. Maybe he would still have his real brother by his side instead of lying awake plagued with questions every night, aching with his loss.

 _I’m sorry, Tooru,_ Ushijima thought, fingers tightening on the armrest - because there was no other choice. The murder of his father, of his brother – it could not go unpunished. Perhaps this was a chance for closure, after all. Not just for the court, for the kingdom – but for the man he was underneath all pomp and glory.

When his advisor put her hand on his shoulder, he did not need to see her face to know she still wore that pleased smile of hers as she whispered soothingly: “This is our chance to take a stand and patch up the wounds of the past. We shall celebrate his execution as a grand act of unbreakable strength, and a warning to those who'd like to see the last of the royal family fall.”

As he looked down into the eyes staring up at him, full of fear and defiance - burning so strongly that for the first time a resemblance was uncanny - doubt crept across his skin with more force. He closed his eyes for half a heartbeat, refusing to let himself waver.

“So be it,” he declared, even when the words cut his mouth like glass shards. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, who is ready for a brand new adventure!
> 
> For this fic, I'll be tracking the 'fic: lost crow' tag. That way all kind of feedback is in one place and it'll be way easier <3 
> 
> Word count estimation? Would anyone take me seriously? But hey, it's sort of a tradition, I guess. A little more realistically this time. Around 150k+. It's gonna be a long year, my dears.


	2. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are many, many ribbons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first real chapter! And it's a 10k monster. Of course it is. 
> 
> First off, I need to thank metis_ink again for beta-ing like a champ and making this chapter a million more times good. And second of all - there are so, so many friends I have to thank. You guys are absolutely incredible. I spent the last 24 hours in a happy haze because all my online friends organised a surprise party to celebrate finishing LWU and showered me in love and presents. (Also paninis. Too many paninis ...)
> 
> I'm so touched and grateful, I don't know what to say, I just - thanks you guys. I love you <3 
> 
> For anyone up for some tunes, I compiled a [sappy Daisuga mix](http://8tracks.com/citrusfluegel/maybe-we-found-love-right-where-we-are) which goes exceptionally well with this chapter!

The rain drumming on the roof overhead had finally slowed down to a drizzle, and Yachi stretched her arms in front of her, eyes closed, before pulling her knees to her chest and resting her face on them. It was peaceful, but peaceful wasn’t what Hinata needed after an entire day inside.

The earth smelled even more strongly, with the air tasting clean and almost taunting, trying to lure him back out to get rid of some of his energy. His foot was tapping on the ground restlessly, and his fingers couldn’t concentrate on the detailed work Suga had piled upon everyone as an excuse to keep them inside.

A wave of colds had swept across camps and filled the infirmaries just recently. Basically no one was spared and in the end, even Kageyama had been bedridden (and pissed about that) for seven days. So, Suga being Suga had refused to let anyone get drenched in the rain now, and there was no exception even though it was only a drizzle now.

No hope for them. Hinata’s foot kept tapping restlessly.

“What if it never stops raining,” Yachi said, suddenly, her eyes wide.

“It always stops,” he answered, shrugging. That wasn’t a thing to be worried about, they’d be fine. “I mean, if it wouldn’t we’d have to always swim. That’d suck.”

Yachi made a soft sound of distress and crinkled her nose at the mental image.

“Kageyama would have a problem, he still sorta sucks at it,” Hinata mused.

“Wouldn’t we _all_ have a problem!”, Yachi yelped. “What if we get tired and drown! The rain never stops and we all _die_ and even if I felt up to it I could never even - I mean, I’d _suck_ in the first place but - Saeko asked me to -”

She sighed deeply, cutting herself off by burying her head in her hands, and Hinata sorta realised that this wasn’t about rain and drowning in it at all. Whoops.

“What’s up? What’d you suck at? As your brother I can assure you there’s nothing you suck at.”

Yachi peeked at him through her fingers.

“I tripped over a bunch of logs yesterday and brought Noya down with me. I almost killed him!”

Hinata tried not to burst out laughing (again), but the image was still vivid in his mind, so he pretty much failed, even with a hand over his mouth.

“Well, he helped you stack them back up! Dead people don’t do that.”

Yachi sighed deeply and put her forehead on her knees, her voice warbled as she muttered into her skin.

“What do I do … she seemed really confident in me, but …”

“Wait a minute!” Hinata perked up, suddenly excited. “Did Saeko ask you to - !”

Yachi raised her head to peek over her knees at him, nodding slightly. He could see the blush to her cheeks and reluctant excitement in her eyes.

“Uwooah! That’s - ! That’s so awesome! You should totally do it!”

“But - !” Yachi sat back up again, looking at him, seeming a little bit lost, almost. “What if I’m … what if I’m not good enough? This is … huge.”

Hinata beamed at her.

“What’re you talking about! Of course you are! Besides, isn’t Kiyoko with you?”

Yachi looked at her hands, a small smile spreading on her face as well.

“You’re right …”

“See, you’re not alone! And as long as you’re not alone, you can do anything. We can do anything! No matter how big!”

Hinata held his hand up, and Yachi giggled, looking a lot more hopeful when she clapped their hands together.

“No matter how big?”

“No matter how big!”, Hinata repeated, all confidence, before he peeked out at the continous rain.

“Okay, maybe not surviving being stuck in the shelter all day,” Hinata grumbled, and Yachi giggled and leaned against his shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure you can survive.”

“Hell no!”

“What would Kageyama say?”

Hinata smoothed his hair down, adopting his patented ‘I-am-Kageyama-now’ frown.

“Dumbass, dumbass Hinata!”, he called in a deep voice, satisfied with hearing Yachi laugh, at least until he was almost choking on his words when Kageyama poked his head in, having adopted his ‘I-am-the-real-Kageyama-and-I’m-gonna-squeeze-your-head-you-little-shit’ frown. Oh snap.

“Anyways, Yachi!”, he hurriedly told her, scrambling to his feet. “You’re awesome and you should totally do it and I’m ooooooff-”

He took off, barrelling past Kageyama and into the drizzle. Kageyama’s gave an indignant squawk turning into a shout behind him, and Hinata broke into hysterical laughter as his feet hit the ground and he pushed his body to its limits, feeling alive with the cool drops tapping on his skin and with Kageyama chasing right after him, his heart jumping anytime he came dangerously close.

“You dumbass!”, he yelled, just like predicted, and Hinata only laughed harder and tried to run faster. They chased each other across camp in wild turns until Hinata’s lungs were burning and he could barely keep on laughing anymore, staggering away from Kageyama, who caught up easily.

“You little shit,” he growled, wrapping his arm around his waist. For a split-second Hinata expected him to be nice or something, then he wondered why he would’ve thought that when Kageyama flung him over his good shoulder.

“What the - !” Hinata squeaked, beginning to struggle, but to no avail. “Put me down! Put me down!”

“I’m dumping you into the horse shit you didn’t clean up yet.”

Hinata tried to kick his chest.

“Don’t be so vulgar! And you wouldn’t!”

“Watch me.”

“You - idiotic - _idiot_ \- ! _Put me down_!”

Kageyama calmly marched towards the stable with him as if he weighed nothing and wasn’t putting up the fight of his life. When Suga appeared out of the infirmary, fists on his hips and his eyes speaking of a storm more than the dark clouds that had been overhead all day, Hinata knew  he was simultaneously doomed and saved from Kageyama. Suga would definitely stop him.

“And what do you think you’re doing,” he asked, dangerously calm.

“I’m dumping Hinata into horse shit,” Kageyama replied easily, and Hinata tried to kick him again, which prompted Kageyama to wrap his other arm around his feet.

“Save me!”, Hinata yelped.

“Well, I’m sure you had it coming. Just keep in mind, Kageyama: you’re the one who shares a bed with him. And if you get sick again, I will make you drink your favourite cough syrup.”

Kageyama froze.

“Not that again,” he almost-gasped in terror.

Suga smiled the most angelic smile.

“Oh, exactly that one. The same goes for Hinata.”

“Better get out of the rain,” Kageyama mumbled, almost sprinting towards the new stable, Hinata bouncing up and down helplessly, freshly betrayed by his own guardian and screeching bloody murder all the way there.

In the end, Kageyama only dumped him into the clean straw and then proceeded to accuse him of scaring Meatbun.

(As if anything would scare their horse after she had been with them every step of the way on their journey.)

Picking straw from his clothes and hair, Hinata narrowed his eyes at Kageyama.

“Why’d you kidnap me anyway!”

“Kidnap you!”, Kageyama repeated back at him, scoffing.

“Yeah! That was totally kidnapping!”

“Pff. I thought you wouldn’t mind spending some time here.”

Kageyama reached up, gently resting his hand on Meatbun’s neck. The image reminded him of other times, different times - when it had just been their horse and them, constantly on the road.

Maybe Hinata didn’t mind spending some time here.

“Hey, Kageyama,” he mumbled, jabbing his finger into his ribs, satisfied with the spluttering noise of surprise it earned him. Before Kageyama could get mad at him for it, he kept going. “You’re the biggest idiot around. But I’m glad you’re my idiot.”

He got up on his tiptoes to peck him on the cheek, then took a few steps back and danced around Meatbun, to check on Runner as well.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see how red the tips of Kageyama’s ears were, and smiled to himself.

 

\---

 

He had told Yachi that they could take on anything, but in the end, Hinata found himself the one who had to surrender. This enemy was too much for him. He’d lost a fight he would’ve wanted to win for his sister … Saeko … his camp. It was over. He would die, right here, right now, smothered by this stupid white sheet.

With a strangled noise he tried to hold it up enough to make it even remotely humanly possible to fasten it in the tree like he was supposed to, but to no avail. This was it. This was his end.

“Dumbass!”

Or maybe not.

The sheet lifted, which left Hinata holding it over his head and squinting at Kageyama, who needed much less effort to hold it much higher. Stupid height differences. Granted, he did look really beautiful, blue eyes and dishevelled hair against the white. Only the frown sort of ruined it, as usual. Still, he _did_ look pretty handsome. And Hinata got to kiss that.

Not that he’d want to, right now. Rude!

“Who’s the dumbass here, huh,” Hinata replied. Kageyama reached up to tug at the strands of hair hanging into his eyes, and Hinata briefly considered biting his hand.

“It’s all ‘cause you can’t even see with your hair like that.”

“Well, I can see your dumb face alright!”

Kageyama tried to tug at his hair again and Hinata swatted his hand away, which left them almost covered under that stupid damn sheet. Why the sheet anyway. Hinata just didn’t get why it was necessary.

“You’re so stupid!”, Hinata hissed back, and Kageyama growled “Look who’s talking”, and Hinata could _swear_ he had intended to do something else and tried to shoot some insult back. It was definitely Kageyama’s fault, leaning in and capturing his lips in a kiss. Keeping him from all his awesome comebacks!

Closing his eyes, Hinata also briefly considered kicking Kageyama’s shin now that he was distracted, but his body sort of betrayed him again when he cupped Kageyama’s cheeks instead and effectively managed to make them into a strange two person shape beneath a giant white sheet. He could feel Kageyama’s lips curve into a soft little smile, and his heart skipped a beat.

It almost _stopped_ when someone slapped his back, _hard_.

“Now, now, what’re you doing under there, huh! Get a fuckin’ room!”, Nishinoya called, and Hinata felt his cheeks heat up when he heard Tanaka join in his snickering.

“We’re not doing anything - !”, he called after them, trying to scramble free from under the sheet, only managing to tangle his body further and also to smack his elbow into Kageyama’s chest. At least managed to poke his head out.

“Don’t slack off!”, Daichi called over.

“We’re not!”, Kageyama shot back. “Don’t slack off yourself!”

Daichi sent him a glare that would’ve sent Asahi into cardiac arrest, but somehow trading glares had become some kind of strange way of affectionate communication between them.

“Don’t give me attitude!”

Kageyama scoffed in turn and tugged on the sheet.

“Let’s get this stuff up where it belongs before _someone_ gets pissed!”, he called extra loudly.

“Hey, I heard that!”

“If I catch anyone slacking off then they’re taking on latrine duty for an entire month!” Suga called across the clearing, and suddenly everyone was very, very busy again.

“I need some more help!”, Asahi called. “Or the food won’t be ready in time!”

Kageyama dropped the sheet, leaving Hinata back tangled under it.

“You traitor,” Hinata hissed into the fabric and got back to his struggle. He hated those damn decorations.

Granted, when they were finally, finally up, Hinata couldn’t help but admire it. The afternoon was slowly starting to come to an end, basking the camp into a softer light than the harsh midday sun which had made everyone in camp sweat all day. Of course the rain _had_ stopped days ago, and the sky was slowly turning into what Saeko had wished for - the soft glow before the evening started swallowing the light - bathing camp in just the right hue to make it look even more beautiful.

Spring had brought a burst of freshly budding flowers, waves of green and dots of colour in between, beautiful in itself. Long strings full of flowers strung between trees and shelters only added to the colour, an even bigger contrast to the crisp and bright white of all those damn sheets which had cost Hinata so many nerves. But they made camp look so much more festive and .. special. A special look for a special day.

Of course, the lanterns had made an appearance again as well. This time, Hinata was grateful that it wasn’t about anyone going on a long journey, especially not them. As incredible and beautiful their journey had been, he didn’t mind the calm of their days now that they were back home.

(Well, usually. The past days had _not_ been calm in the slightest.)

Everyone was still bustling about, only barking short orders or apologies or pleas at each other. There had been a period of unrest when Nishinoya had knocked Narita over with a ladder and Suga and Kageyama had almost knocked their heads togethers getting to him, but in the end, nobody had suffered any bad damage to the head.

The next crisis Hinata didn’t really realise what exactly was going on, but Daichi seemed to go through a minor life crisis and Tanaka was banned from the fireplace now. Hey, Hinata wasn’t the only one anymore! Hopefully Asahi still had his eyebrows …

All in all, after those past days, camp had really gotten used to facing one minor crisis after the next. Especially now that the big day had finally rolled around.

“All of you look like you’ve been crawling through mud all day!” Yachi almost screeched, hands buried in her hair, eyes darting around between them all. The braid down her back had started unravelling, and her bangs were sticking in all directions as if she had been burying her hands in her hair all day. Which, granted, she probably had been.

“Quite literally,” Ennoshita dead-panned in response. Narita jabbed an elbow into his ribs for it.

“This absolutely won’t do! Okay, okay!” She clapped her hands. “Who has absolutely necessary tasks to do?! Nobody but the team which is cooking, right?! The rest of you, all of you, will report to me! Get changed into your best clothes and then we’ll see what we can do about it! And for goodness’ sake, try to clean your faces!”

“I think I have to -”, Daichi began, but Suga stepped into his way, wrapping an arm around his hip with the kind of faux-sweet smile that sent shivers down everyone’s spine.

“Oh no, darling, you’ll go get changed just like all of us and let your daughter do a make-over on you.”

He shoved him into the direction of their shelter and gave Yachi a thumbs-up.

“Hang in there, Yacchan!”, Nishinoya called.

“Can I go see her now?!”, Tanaka whined.

Yachi shook her head. “Not yet!”, she commanded, firmly. “And I hope you know you’ll have to look extra good! Did you polish your boots?!”

Tanaka didn’t dare meet her eyes and Yachi was back to burying her hands in her hair.

“You’re all _hopeless_!”

And that was the exact moment the entirety of Nekoma arrived in a loud and chaotic mess, all in their best clothes and looking so clean and tidy, Yachi looked as if she was about to tear up with joy.

“There’s some common sense in this world,” she whispered, clutching her chest.

Hinata guessed being a bridesmaid was a tough job.

“You all look like hell!”, Kuroo called over, at the head of the wave of Cats through the entrance.

“Shut the fuck up!”, Daichi hollered across the clearing, as stressed Crows and mischievous Cats started mingling and doubled the noise and chaos in the clearing. Inuoka spotted him, waved over to Hinata, but got immediately swept up as Asahi recruited him for kitchen duty, and then Lev was in his field of vision anyway, poking out about the chaos. It was hard to see, but easy to _hear_ Yaku.

“Go get dressed!”, both Suga and Yachi called, and grumbling, Daichi finally vanished. Probably just to escape the bustling of camp. Living here together had been a little messy, but this was on a whole new level, since everyone’s excitement was through the roof.

The forest had never seen an occasion such as this.

Even Yamamoto had polished his boots, which seemed very impressive to Hinata. Compared to Karasuno’s state, everyone he caught sight of from Nekoma looked so damn _fancy_ and _clean_.

Fukunaga made a beeline to join the kitchen duties, Michimiya straight up sprinted at Swan to greet her with a kiss. Living in two different camps and not constantly seeing each other seemed pretty strange to Hinata, who was used to having Kageyama snore in his ear and occasionally punch him in his sleep.

The greetings called back and forth calmed down a little as slowly, as everyone figured out where they could help with the last finishing touches and got to work, only chatting with the people close to them, not yelling ‘YO, HINATA!’ from the other end of the camp. Lev had added a longly worded request Hinata had not understood a _word_ of, but instead of coming over to elaborate, Lev had been roped into something else.  

“Yo, shorty, guess Tsukki and Yamaguchi are with the groom?”, Kuroo asked Hinata, who almost jumped, a little too caught up in the unfolding chaos in camp. There was _so much to see_. Today really was something.

“Yeah, haven’t seen any of the people actually involved in it all day,” Hinata told him. “They’ve just been gone for ages. Sometimes you can see Kiyoko or Tsukishima and they all look like - gwuah, like, exhausted but super tense!”

Kuroo chuckled.

“Love ain’t easy and weddings are hell, I guess.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Can’t believe a guy like that marries a woman like Saeko.”

“Well, he carved a flower for her,” Hinata replied, shrugging. He wasn’t really the greatest at that topic either, so he didn’t feel like the one to talk. “Do ya think that sheet looks safe?”

Kuroo looked up to where Hinata was pointing. “Eh, looks good to me. Shouldn’t you get a little cleaned up, too? Your sister’s gonna go insane at this rate.”

Hinata gulped. He wasn’t sure he was even _able_ to meet Yachi’s standards. She asked for clean fingernails. Clean fingernails! “Uhhh, I guess?”

“Get going already,” Kuroo laughed, giving him a light push, and with a soft whine, Hinata surrendered to his fate.

 

“You’d think grown men would know what clean means,” Yachi mumbled, dipping the cloth back into her bucket. Hinata squeezed his left eye shut as she started scrubbing behind his ear with a little too much force than necessary.

“Isn’t that enough? I’m clean already. This shirt has, like, zero stains.”

“Let’s just pretend we’re not living in a forest for _one_ special day, alright? It’s nice for a change. Daichi looks a lot less intimidating, all dressed up.”

“He also looks a lot more sulky, if you ask me.”

“That’s because all you guys are kids at heart. Now hold still!”

Hinata screeched when he saw her get a brush. “Woah, woah, what’re you gonna -”

“Brush your hair! Jeez, either you do that more often or you cut your hair -”

“Why’s everyone getting on my case about that,” Hinata complained, trying to dodge the brush.

“Oh no you don’t! Hold still, Hinata. I’m not trying to kill you.”

“It sure feels a lot like it, though,” he grit out, as Yachi started nonchalantly dragging the damn brush through his hair. His hair barely touched his shoulder and untangling it was such a pain, how the hell did Yachi even survive?!

Eventually, the whole ordeal with the brush calmed from ‘excruciating pain’ to ‘bearable but only because he was a strong, grown man’ to something actually … nice, once the worst was untangled. Slowly dragged through his hair, the hairbrush felt relaxing enough to almost make him sleepy, and Hinata closed his eyes against the sensation.

The calming effect seemed to be the same for Yachi, because she simply kept going at it, with calmer brushes now. Hinata hummed his approval, and all this dressing up didn’t seem as bad anymore.

“Camp looks so nice,” Yachi sighed. “It was such an exhausting day, but seeing it all ready now … it’s so beautiful.”

Hinata, lulled into an almost trance-like state of calm by the continued brushing, only nodded in response. His tongue felt a little heavy.Maybe he could get Yachi to do this for him more often ... and maybe Kageyama would shut up about his hair then …

“I wonder if it’s gonna be like this … if I …”

Her brush stilled, and Yachi sighed, suddenly falling quiet. Hinata blinked his eyes open again, and had a feeling she was fidgeting behind him.

“Do you sometimes …,” she began, and fell quiet again.

“What is it?”, Hinata asked, almost a little worried now.

“I just think it’d be nice … if I got to be a bride someday,” Yachi muttered, incredibly shy now. It was an extreme contrast to the exasperated Queen of this camp from before who had managed to coordinate all of them with an iron fist and had gotten Daichi into fancy clothes. That was more than even Suga could say.“Maybe I’m just being a little silly. Who’d say Kiyoko would spend her whole life with me? But I guess I can dream a little …”

“Of course she wants to,” Hinata interrupted her. “When she looks at you it’s like a person looking at the sea, all awe and wonder and gratitude. Why’d she ever leave you? _That’s_ silly. And you’d make a really pretty bride! I’d even get all dressed up again.”

Yachi beamed at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks a lot! That’s … that really means a lot.”

Hinata grinned back at her. “Of course! So, do you want me to do your hair now?”

Yachi waved her hand. “Ah, no, no - it’s fine, Kiyoko promised to do it for me. You’d probably murder my scalp. No offense.”

Hinata shrugged. “Alright then! So, uh, you think just pulling it back like usual is okay?”

“Absolutely. You look really handsome.”

She abandoned the brush, running her fingers through his hair, parting it in a much more fancy way than Hinata usually did - which was basically, grabbing all hair and just tying it right up. But her fingers in his hair did feel nice, too. Maybe he should really ask her to do that more often …

“Say, Hinata - do you sometimes think about … like, you and Kageyama … ?”

Hinata managed to choke on his own spit, which was sort of an achievement in itself.

“I. What!”, he squeaked, his voice getting away from him.

“Haha, sorry. Forget it. I just thought … well, I don’t know. You two barely are apart. I just can’t imagine that to change, so … but, nevermind. Sorry, I’m just getting carried away with the atmosphere!”

She laughed a nervous little laugh, finishing her work on him. “All done now. Uh, Hinata … are you alright?”

“Yeah! Sure! Haha, what would be wrong!”

“You look really red. Just breathe! I didn’t mean for you to panic!”

The relaxed atmosphere disappeared in a flash as Yachi was desperately fussing over him and Hinata tried to calm his heartbeat down and failed in epic proportions, which ended in both of them making distressed noises at each other and hysterical reassurances.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it! Breathe!”

“I am breathing!”

“You don’t look like it!”

“I wouldn’t be speaking if I wasn’t breathing!”

“Are. You guys alright?”, Kageyama poked his head into the shelter, tentative.

“Peachy!”, Hinata squawked. “All is well! So we don’t need to talk about anything that just happened! Did you wash yourself behind your ears! Maybe you should check up on him, Yachi! I’ll be helping with the … uh, the, the decorations again!”

“Aren’t those done alrea-”, Kageyama started to ask, drowned out by Yachi.

“Don’t you dare get dirty now!”, she called after him, as Hinata shoved his way past her and a very confused Kageyama.

Hopefully she wouldn’t ask _him_ that weird stuff. What the heck. What the heck!

“Yo, what’s up!”, Nishinoya called over, and Hinata made a beeline to avoid him and ran straight into Tsukishima.

“Watch where you’re going,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare mess up later.”

Tsukishima’s sudden intensity was pretty worrisome. Everyone was getting so intense over this wedding. Even him! Though, granted, it was his brother and all. Yamaguchi materialised behind him, looking as if he was ready to puke, his hands trembling.

“Uh, Ts-Tsukki, m-maybe you should go back … I c-can’t calm him d-down -”

“God, Yamaguchi, you’re worse than him,” Tsukishima groaned. He turned on his heel, vanishing back into his shelter, leaving Hinata with his trembling friend.

“Why’re you so nervous? It’s not like you’re getting married,” Hinata asked in earnest confusion, but found that wasn’t the best course of action, since Yamaguchi looked just a little sicker as soon as the word marriage dropped.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered back as if he had seen things Hinata would never understand, much like Yachi. Was getting involved in a wedding really that bad? Maybe he’d never marry. Ever.

God, why was he thinking about that again. He couldn’t go be nervous now, either!

“Uh, are you gonna be alright?”, Hinata asked.

Yamaguchi pressed his lips together and nodded, still looking far too pale.

“Hey, hey!”, Kuroo called over, and Yamaguchi flinched, but didn’t move away when Kuroo wrapped his arm around his neck. If anything, he looked even more nervous now. Was he really going to be alright?!

“How’s the groom doing? Puked already?”

“Uh -” Yamaguchi nervously glimpsed at Kuroo’s face close to his, pressed his lips together and twisted himself free. Hinata could sort of understand that, actually. Kuroo could be terrifying.

“Uh, a-actually, I should check, uh, check up on them!”

He flung his hand out in what had probably been supposed to be a wave, but looked like a drunk punching the air for no reason at all.

“S-see you!”

Kuroo was left running a hand through his hair, and Hinata found himself confused as _he_ seemed nervous now, too. Why would Kuroo get second-hand flustered from Akiteru marrying.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”, he asked him suddenly, really looking like he wanted an answer.  

Why did everyone expect Hinata to answer questions today.

“Decorations!”, he blurted, turned on his heel, and left the situation behind. Unfortunately, of course he didn’t have anything to do anymore. They really were almost ready now, Suga and Yaku were already busy herding everyone into the middle of the clearing, though probably mostly to keep them from setting the decorations on fire. Or stealing food. Or starting a spontaneous wrestling match in their best clothes, as Tanaka and Yamamoto had been about to.

“Hey.” Kageyama showed up next to him, seemingly out of nowhere. Hinata screeched and brought his hands up, ready to dodge him.

“Seriously, are you okay. You look like you’re about to puke. Everyone does. Why? Aren’t they just, like, gonna say vows and that’s it?”

Hinata lowered his hands, trying not to be hung up on how good Kageyama looked in dark clothes and with that blue bandana around his neck, which really, really brought out his eyes. Trying _really hard_ not to think about what Yachi had asked him.

“You’re not in the slightest bit romantic, are you,” Ennoshita said behind them.

Kageyama still looked a little confused about the whole excitement of the camp, but before he could ask any more questions, all conversations came to a halt when Yachi appeared and caught everyone’s attention. Her braid now tidy and weaved with flowers, in her one and only best dress, Hinata did see why she had been so determined for everyone to look their best today.

It really did make a difference. She smiled at them and clapped her hands again, Hinata still admiring how radiant she looked in red.

“The bride’s ready! Tanaka is with her already, he even managed not to cry, I’m so proud. It’s time to get the groom now! Is everyone ready here?!”

There was an affirmative chorus as her answer.

“Asahi, you too?”

Fumbling a little nervously, he nodded anyway, trying to look determined where he stood.

The mixed crowd of Cats and Crows had parted into two sides creating an aisle in between them, and everyone was oddly quiet, especially compared to how they’d been before. Hinata had never seen them all in one place without all hell breaking loose, but the atmosphere really was special enough.

Their preparations had been going on for ages, all of them hard worked hard just for this moment. Rarely did anyone put that much effort into their looks, but it _was_ a nice feeling, for a change. The air tasted like the flowers they had scattered everywhere, and like anticipation for something absolutely beautiful and unique to happen. Breathing extra slowly, Hinata found himself in awe of simply being here.

“It’s going to be fine. Don’t lose it now,” was the first thing the crowd could hear, as Tsukishima and Yachi tried to usher the trembling Yamaguchi and - most important today, Akiteru forward. He actually did look worse than Yamaguchi, but somehow still managed to look especially handsome. Someone had done a real great job getting him dressed up for the occasion.

“Yamaguchi, it’s gonna be fine,” Yachi assured him. “You don’t have to do anything during the ceremony itself, you just have to be at his side.”

“I’m calm,” Yamaguchi squeaked. Yachi kept patting his arm as they led the two of them through the aisle of people.

There were a few scattered compliments for Akiteru and some laughter as someone told him “you’re marrying, not dying”, and Akiteru didn’t react at all, just stared up ahead with wide eyes.

“What if she doesn’t -”

“She’ll show up. You won’t trip. See, we’re already here. Yamaguchi, keep it together!”

Tsukishima’s whole body screamed ‘I did not sign up for this’, but he sounded remarkably patient for a person who had single-handedly tried to keep the groom and his panicking second best man sane today. And probably had lost sanity in the process.

“I c-can’t,” Yamaguchi replied, and Akiteru buried his face in his hands.

“You’re not freaking out now,” Tsukishima commanded. “I _did not_ spend weeks preparing for you to bail now. Stay where you are. You want to marry her, so do it.”

“Of course I want to marry her,” Akiteru replied.

“Then that’s all you need to know,” Asahi answered, his voice warm. He seemed to enjoy his role the most, even though the cooking had really taken its toll on his nerves before - since he’d been forced to protect the food and make sure nothing caught on fire - but getting to be the one to conduct the marriage truly seemed to make him happy. “The rest will fall into place. So don’t worry.”

Miraculously, one of the most nervous people in camp actually managed to calm Tsukishima Akiteru down minutes before his marriage.

“Yamaguchi, you’re breathing alright?”, Yachi asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, steeling his shoulders. His voice only had a slight tremble to it left. “I’m calm now, sorry.”

“Finally,” Tsukishima mumbled between them.

“So, is everyone ready now to greet the bride?”, Yachi asked. The chorus echoing back was nothing but chaos, but a clear and definite confirmation filtered through.

“Alright then! Hush now! Get ready!”

Yachi hurried off, a skip to his steps which was both nervous and excited, and camp fell silent. Akiteru steadied his breathing, taking his proper place awaiting his bride, with Tsukishima first, then Yamaguchi next to him. He started fussing around with the flower pinned to his shirt and his cuffs, ran his hand through his hair, hurriedly asked Tsukishima whether he had messed up, and for a split-second, Hinata almost expected Tsukishima to just turn around and leave.

Instead, he sighed, reaching up to pat his brother’s hair down where it stuck up a little weirdly.

“Calm down. You’ve been waiting so long for this. She loves you and you love her. Nothing changes. It’s just a promise.”

Yachi and Kiyoko arrived, hand in hand as they quickly made their way through the little aisle, to stand across from the groom and his brothers, waiting for Saeko. Kiyoko looked absolutely beautiful, but exhausted, too.

When Hinata saw them standing there, everyone gathered in this special atmosphere with so many flowers and decorations, Yachi’s hand intertwined with Kiyoko’s, he somewhat understood, why his sister had brought the wedding topic up before. It seemed like something she would absolutely love.

Someday, the two of them definitely would marry. And Hinata couldn’t wait to see how happy his sister would look then.

Gasps rippled through the crowd in a wave, and Hinata craned his neck, bending down to jump over the crowd with all his might so he could spot Saeko approaching, too. The little glimpse he got of her took his breath away already, and he stumbled forwards to the edge of where their little aisle ended, so he could bend to the side and watch her approach around the others blocking his view.

Saeko looked absolutely breathtaking. Her feet were bare and her hair open, a single flower in her hair - the one on her right shoulder, the one Akiteru had carved for her. Her simple dress ended just below her knees, tied together at her neck, showing off her arms and back, all of her tattoos in the open, the story of her life so far as she slowly walked towards what would be her promise for the future.

Somehow, the simplicity of her dress only brought out her radiance more, brought more attention to _her_ , her expression and the way she moved, a skip in her step filled with joy.

Tanaka had linked his arm with hers as he led her, trying really hard not to cry, but failing utterly, tears already running down his cheeks and sniffling slightly.

They moved slowly, savouring the moment of breathless awe which had swept over all of Karasuno and Nekoma and made even the loudest of them watch in absolute silence.

When Akiteru saw her, his jaw simply dropped.

All his nervousness was swapped away in an instant, his eyes wide and shocked in a way that reminded Hinata of his first time seeing the sea, when he’d seen this majestic beauty he had never expected to find in his life.

Akiteru caught himself after a moment, closing his mouth, but never took his eyes off Saeko, watched her approach like he was hypnotised, and Hinata could understand. Nobody could really look away.

When Saeko caught her groom’s eye, she broke into the widest grin, suddenly tugging at Tanaka and dragging him after her as she bounded up to Akiteru and the small gathering up front. Tanaka wiped at his eyes hastily as he took his place behind her, next to Yachi and Kiyoko, and Hinata was pretty sure he could see Saeko mouth ‘Can’t wait to kiss you’ at Akiteru.

Asahi cleared his throat, and he looked as if he had tears in his eyes, too. Nishinoya and Yamamoto were bawling their eyes out already.Tanaka was still wiping at his eyes, and Yachi reached out to squeeze his hand.

Hinata’s heart nearly stopped when Kageyama reached for his, not saying a word, just holding on really tightly. Forcing himself to keep breathing, he squeezed his hand in response, and Kageyama exhaled shakily.

“My dear Cats and Crows, I’m so honoured and grateful to be standing here today. The occasion which brought us together is of the most beautiful kind - a celebration of love, of the strongest power we know of. A celebration of what ties our fates, shapes our lives, and gives us the hope, the determination and the will to keep going each day.”

Hinata could see Suga lean into Daichi, wrapping an arm around his hip, whispering something into his ear. Even though Hinata couldn’t see Daichi’s face, he was sure he was smiling.

Asahi took a deep breath, smiling at Saeko, then at Akiteru.

“Two of our beloved friends have decided to make their promises for a life together. Their love is the reason all of us are gathered here. Already has it proven its strength, and shown us that even of the most dire circumstances, something beautiful can sprout and blossom.”

Hinata swallowed. The circumstances under which the two of them had met … nothing had ever shaken this forest like that before.

The fact that their entire family could be gathered here today, that it had only grown instead … it was a miracle.

Asahi took another deep breath, smiling wide, his eyes shimmering. Kageyama swallowed next to him, and Nishinoya, Tanaka and Yamamoto were only crying harder.

“In our beginnings, we have faced tough times together. But, Akiteru, you have truly become a part of this family. And there is nothing that brings me more joy than seeing you standing here, in awe, on such a special day.”

Asahi tried to look him in the eyes, but Akiteru was far too busy marvelling at Saeko, looking as if he’d just found himself in the most beautiful dream and was praying to never wake up.

“Saeko, your life has been full of dangers, of twists and turns. Your sheer strength has brought you here, and seeing that you found the peace and the home and the happiness you’ve been looking for is the greatest gift all of us could hope for.”

Even Hinata blinked a little more quickly now, trying not to join the ranks of people tearing up. All of them were far too swept up in this special kind of feeling, reminded of their past struggles, but gathered for an occasion of pure joy for once, relishing in everything they had survived and been granted in turn.

“Don’t make me tear up,” Saeko muttered with her pointer finger raised at Asahi, getting a good laugh out of everyone gathered.

Asahi only smiled wider.

Hinata swallowed, his chest feeling tight, grinning so hard that his cheeks hurt.

“Tanaka Saeko, are you standing here of your own free will today?”

“You can bet your beloved beard I am.”

Asahi brushed his knuckle over his beard with a slightly awkward smile, and Akiteru smiled at Saeko as if she was his entire world and all the beauty in it, and maybe, to him, she was. Saeko tried to focus on Asahi for now, but she bounced lightly on her feet, her fingers curling in slightly as if she was just waiting to hold Akiteru’s hand.

“Then, do you want to take the hand of the man next to you, lead and guide him through all his struggles, promise to stay at his side, no matter the trials or the odds?”

Saeko turned her head, looking at Akiteru, her eyes soft and fond. She stopped bouncing, lacing her fingers in front of her comfortably.

“There’s nothing I’d love more,” she said, her voice loud and unwavering. Hinata had seen a lot of smiles, a lot of happiness in his life, but barely anything seemed to live up to Saeko’s body language, to her smile right now.

Hearing her words, Akiteru seemed about ready to fall over with happiness, as if for a moment, he had expected her to decline.

“All my life I’ve been on the run - working and searching. You’re my harbour, my place to rest, my home. Please take care of me from here on.”

Asahi tried to brush over his eyes as unsuspiciously as possible, took a breath to collect himself, before he continued.

“Tsukishima Akiteru, are you standing here of your own free will today?”

Akiteru did not show any reaction to his words, still too busy marvelling at Saeko, his eyes shimmering.

Asahi cleared his throat, and another ripple of chuckles went through the crowd. Kenma elbowed Kuroo in the side for being the loudest of them.

Akiteru snapped back to attention.

“Uhm, sorry, what?”

Asahi suppressed a snort, his lips twitching in held back laughter as he repeated, with humour in his voice: “Are you here of your own free will today?”

“Yes! Yes, I am,” Akiteru replied breathlessly, his eyes already flitting back over to Saeko, who grinned back at him full of fondness, the happiness radiating from her almost blinding. She looked devastatingly beautiful like that. Nishinoya barely managed to muffle a sob in both of his hands.

“Do you want to take the hand of the woman next to you, lead and guide her through all her struggles, promise to stay at her side, no matter the trials or the odds?”

“I’d be honoured to.”

Akiteru’s hand twitched as if he was ready to reach out for Saeko’s hand, but remembering that he wasn’t supposed to, not yet, and he curled it back at his side. Both of them seemed equally as impatient in that regard.

Akiteru bit his lips, took a deep, shuddering breath, his voice heavy with emotion.

“You’re everything I never anticipated and more. You’re … you leave me speechless. Even now. I don’t know how I deserve you but you make me the happiest man alive. And I’ll - I’ll do everything to make you just as happy.”

Asahi cleared his throat again as Saeko seemed ready to close the distance between them and kiss Akiteru on the spot. Freezing in her movement, Saeko sent him a grin which didn’t seem sheepish for the pure mischief in it.

Asahi sighed, no doubt skipping over more things he would’ve liked to say to make it a little quicker for the two of them, gently reaching first for Saeko’s, then for Akiteru’s hand.

“Then, from this day on, your fates shall be intertwined.”

He brought their hands together and they laced their fingers. By now, Asahi had given up the hope that he could catch their attention when they were so busy looking at each other.

Carefully, he took the light blue ribbon they had picked out, wrapping it around their joined wrists and making a bow.

“And if the world falls to ruin again, our hands shall still be intertwined,” Saeko and Akiteru whispered, at once.

“You may now seal your prom-” Asahi’s sentence cut off into an appalled squawk as Saeko was busy crossing the distance before he could even finish the sentence, wrapping her free arm around Akiteru’s waist and dipping him low to kiss him.

His muffled sound of surprise didn’t seem unpleased in the slightest.

There was more laughter and the first unrest as Nishinoya and Yamamoto were storming forward the second Saeko stopped smooching the ever living hell out of Akiteru, waving their own ribbons, both of which looked a little crumpled.

Hinata actually felt a little nervous about his own. Traditionally, you had to stitch wishes for luck or symbols into the ribbon. Too bad he had no idea how to stitch.

Compared to the masterpiece Yachi had created, his had tiny black blobs of varying shapes which could be interpreted as crows or feathers, maybe, and which Kageyama had said looked like fly crap. (He was probably just jealous because his was even worse.)

He could barely see anything as everyone started pushing forward, offering their ribbons, busy tying them around Saeko’s and Akiteru’s arms.

By the time Hinata reached the two of them, colourful ribbons tied them together all the way up to their shoulders and Saeko wouldn’t stop laughing.

“Too big of a family!”, she called, gesturing with her free arm until Tanaka just clung to it and buried his face at her shoulder, still crying.

“Uh -”, Hinata began, finding he had zero idea where to even put his ribbon.

“It’s gorgeous!”, Saeko told him, beaming, and Akiteru agreed reluctantly, his fingers twitching. Maybe their family really was a little huge, considering all these ribbons, but wasn’t that the best problem one could have?

Hinata settled for squeezing it in between two other ribbons which didn’t look particularly … well-crafted.

“Please accept mine too!”, Kageyama inclined his head, looking a little bit too serious and tense considering he only had to add another ribbon to the colourful mess tying Saeko and Akiteru together.

“Awww, of course,” Saeko answered easily, ruffling his hair and leaving Kageyama with the kind of dumbfounded expression that had Hinata snicker at him.

Suga’s was the last one, a light green colour with a careful addition of flowers, and he grinned at the two of them.

“Only promises can get you free now,” he told them, pretty smug. “Good luck.”

Akiteru laughed, shrugging with one shoulder.  

Saeko’s answering grin had Suga furrow his brows in suspicion.

“Oh, not yet, though,” she told him, clearly enjoying herself.

A burst of excitement shot through Hinata. So they were really going through with it! The others around seemed to pick up on it. They started returning to their place from before, causing a small wave of people excitedly following their example.

Yachi clapped her hands in joy, Kiyoko smiled next to her, and Daichi - Daichi should have really known something was up because this bunch of idiots did not stay in orderly fashion, not unless they wanted to get on his nerves in some other way.

He looked around at the wave of people who started standing silently again, at Asahi taking his place from before.

“What kind of prank is that,” he asked, flatly. Saeko laughed, moving forwards and dragging Akiteru with her, so she could clap his shoulder.

“You fucker. Now, go up there and make it official, would you?”

Daichi felt like he barely dodged swallowing his tongue.

“ _What_.”

“You dense bastard. Go take your fucking vows!”, Kuroo called from where he stood. Daichi met Suga’s gaze, and the both of them seemed to realise at once what this was about, Suga’s eyes wide as he started spluttering. “But -”, he started, and Daichi followed quickly, because this was ridiculous. “This is your day! Why would we -”

Saeko nudged him towards the aisle between their friends and Asahi with so much force, calling it a nudge was a really friendly way to put it.

“Besides, we don’t -” Daichi half turned around, finding Suga’s gaze again. “We don’t need it. We never needed it. We’re …”

There was no doubt. They’d built a home together, they’d spent their life together, they’d raised kids and survived so much together. Why would something like this matter?

“But …”, Suga said again, chewing at his lip. “Don’t you … sort of … want to … ?”

Daichi considered for a second.

“God. Fuck, yes.”

They beamed at each other, the people around broke into cheers, and Saeko pushed him forwards again. This time, Daichi went willingly, unconsciously reaching for Suga’s hand as he joined his steps, freezing in the movement when Tanaka hollered at him that he wasn’t allowed to yet.

Daichi took his time to shoot him a glare, but broke into a smile when he saw Yachi and Hinata waiting for him now, where Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Tanaka had been before. Hinata had pulled Kageyama along, who struggled against his grip but froze when the two of them came closer, seemingly surrendering to his fate.

“Yo, you want me as best man?”, Kuroo called.

“In your dreams!”, Daichi called back, which made Yaku crack up and pat Kuroo’s shoulder, who pulled off an impressive pout for a grown man. Pinching his nose, Daichi took a deep breath. “I’m so gonna regret this. Get up here, you fucker.”

Taken off guard, Kuroo only moved when Yaku gave him a light push, breaking into a wide grin.

“For real?!”

“Ask again and I might reconsider.”

Kuroo stumbled into the aisle, turning around to point at the people around. “You see this?! You see this?! I’m his best fucking man!”

“I take it back,” Daichi grumbled, but Kuroo already bounded up to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, laughing.

“To think that we used to wanna kill each other!”

Suga ignored Kuroo’s enthusiastic shenanigans, and Kiyoko took an extra place at his side in a much calmer fashion.

Daichi clamped his mouth shut, seeing they were almost standing in front of Asahi now. Dear God. What was he doing?! Daichi had anticipated seeing Saeko and Akiteru marry, not being pushed into it himself, in a last second kind of deal. What would he even say? Fuck.

He hadn’t thought this through.

 _Nobody_ had thought this through.

“Are you really sure this is a -”, he started, but Asahi looked at him, unwavering, and Daichi found a kind of warm comfort in his eyes, some kind of strength. His friend wouldn’t let him chicken out of this. Kind of strange, how suddenly, their roles had flipped. Daichi craned his head, looking back to where all his friends, all of his family was watching them, slowly calming down again so it was silent. Really, truly silent, all their gazes on them.

They paid attention, just for this moment, just to see them do this.

And then he looked to his left, to where Suga was standing and met his gaze with an equally as nervous, but bubbly little smile.

They’d always refused marriage, the forced air about it, but … this wasn’t forced, not based on expectations. Only a chance to make a meaningful memory which all of their loved ones could share with them.

He looked at his kids, beaming at him. And then he looked ahead, meeting Asahi’s kind smile.

“Daichi, are you here of your own free will?”

He made a point to turn around and glare at Saeko, still happily tied together by 25 colourful ribbons with her now-husband, then turned back again.

“Well, sort of.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Suga shoot him a glare, and Daichi broke into a grin in reply. Asahi shook his head mildly, but kept going.

“So, do you want to take the hand of the man next to you, lead and guide him through all his struggles, promise to stay at his side, no matter the trials or the odds?”

“To be honest, I think I’ve already done that.”

“Daichi,” Suga quietly groaned next to him.

Breathing in, Daichi gave himself a little push, meeting Suga’s eyes for his next words.

“No matter what, I will stay with you. Of course I will. Vows or not, I’ll be at your side, always.”

Suga’s smile was absolutely worth it.

There were so many things he could tell the man across from him, but he decided to keep it simple.

“You’re my compass and you led me to a place where I want to stay, where I’m proud and happy to stay. Thanks for sharing your past, and thanks for sharing your future with me.”

God. That had been sort of sappy anyway, hadn’t it? Was Asahi tearing up? Damn goofball. Not Suga, too. Daichi clenched his fists at his side. He would not join the goofball. Hell no. This whole thing didn’t make him feel as sappy.

Yachi looked at him, and Daichi found that fuck it, he was feeling absolutely sappy, and ridiculously happy, and this moment felt so special he almost regret never considering it before. Daichi could really use a big family group hug right about now to cope with the warmth welling up inside of him. Or maybe punch a sack of flour. His chest felt unbearably tight with emotion.

Asahi turned towards Suga, and Daichi felt like he definitely wasn’t ready for this.

“Suga, are you standing here of your own free will?”

Suga made a point of looking at Daichi, like ‘that’s how you do it’, when he answered: “In fact, I am.”

“Then, do you want to take the hand of the man next to you, lead and guide him through all his struggles, promise to stay at his side, no matter the trials or the odds?”

And when their eyes met again, Daichi’s breath hitched in his throat at the warmth in Suga’s eyes, the love in them, soft and fierce all the same.

“Of course I do.”

They smiled at each other, and with a pang of gratitude Daichi realised again how lucky he could be that Suga had been at his side, all his life, until now. And tomorrow, and the day after, and probably until they stopped breathing and neither of them could help it anymore, could not fight being separated any longer. But as long as he could choose … he’d always choose this man standing next to him.

“My cornerstone,” Suga said, gently, the simple word encompassing it all. “If I could go back in time and change anything, I wouldn’t. I’d always want to end up here, no matter what we went through on our way.”

They smiled at each other, and Daichi would not tear up, he wouldn’t.

“You guys are sappier than us!”, Saeko called, and the people around them laughed, and Asahi reached for their hands, and Daichi felt really, truly unapologetically happy.

“Then from this day on, your fates shall be intertwined.”

He laced his fingers with Suga’s and looked down at their hands as Asahi tied a deep purple ribbon around their wrists, and this stupid damn ribbon meant the world to him.

But, wait.

Fuck.

He was supposed to say that phrase. He’d just heard it a little ago, but what was it? Oh Lord. Oh Lord. He didn’t want to mess this moment up. Fuck everyone who hadn’t warned him before pushing him into taking these fucking vows. Officially, now.

Daichi had that distinct feeling that somehow, everyone except for them was in on that. He’d tear them a new one for that later.

 _Or maybe not_ , he thought, when Suga looked at him and squeezed his hand gently.

“And if our world falls to ruin again, our hands shall still be intertwined,” he told him.  

Daichi licked his lips, finding his voice raspy and low with the emotion welling up inside of him.

“And if our world falls to ruin again, our hands shall still be intertwined.”

“You may now seal your promise,” Asahi told them, looking exactly as happy as them, like he had been waiting for this just the same.

Daichi reached out to cup Suga’s cheek with his free hand, and Suga did the same, tracing his scar gently with his thumb.

“I love you,” he whispered, and Daichi’s response was a gentle kiss he groaned into when he could hear Tanaka cheer the loudest and Kuroo joining him whooping and whistling. _Those guys_.

“All you fuckers were in on this, weren’t you!”, he called towards everyone after he broke the kiss, the laughter in response only louder.

“What’d make you think that?”, Yaku asked, offering them a prepared ribbon. With a groan and Suga’s laughter in his ear, Daichi let the healer tie it around them.

“Wait, doesn’t that mean -”, he began, feeling a mild sense of dread which quickly sky-rocketed.

“We’ll have to trade the ribbons off for promising favours,” Suga confirmed.

“We’re dead,” Daichi whispered, just as Kuroo bounded up to them, the most shit-eating grin on his face.

“I didn’t know you could be that romantic, you bastard.”

“Me neither,” Suga laughed.

“Hey!” Daichi grumbled.

Kuroo turned around to the approaching Saeko, Akiteru still having mild trouble following her.

“Best idea you ever had,” he told her. They fistbumped, and laughed together, and Daichi thought about how he would have to make a promise with every single person here and he thought of Nishinoya and Tanaka and knew that theirs would be the worst. And all the while, the ribbons kept piling up, with wishes from everyone and everyone was so _god damn smug_ about it.

When Yachi came up to him, she simply clung to him and cried into his chest, and he wrapped his free arm around her and found he couldn’t move in the slightest anymore. Not that he wanted to, not right now, not when it meant he could still hug his family and be close to them.

But eventually he had to start trading the ribbons away for those damn promises.

Who would make up a dumb tradition like that.

“Why would you ever do this to yourself,” he asked Saeko, when he caught her eyes over Yachi’s head, earning a jab in the ribs from Suga.

She only grinned at him, happy and unabashed and her eyes sparkling, and deep down, Daichi knew. His hand was still laced with Suga’s, he was surrounded with everyone who mattered to him.

Of course he knew.  

“Now can we _finally_ get rid of those ribbons?”, Saeko called over the crowd, and the ensuing laughter only confirmed Daichi’s worst fears.

“Yeah, we’re dead,” Suga whispered, but his smile was still impossibly wide, and he looked healthy and strong, and was right next to him.

And nothing would change that.

Not if Daichi could help it.

 

\---

 

They were the last two still awake, and Daichi wasn’t sure whether Kuroo was the worst or the best company for a moment like that. He was filled with pleasant warmth, his head lulled into a cozy sense of warmth from the damn booze, and Kuroo looked up at the stars as if he hadn’t seen them for a while.

“You ‘n me ‘n booze. Nostalgic, huh?”

“Don’t remind me of it,” Daichi groaned. “I could’ve killed you back then. You were such a shithead. You _still_ are.”

“Yeah, but now you _love_ me for it.”

“Shut up, I don’t,” Daichi grumbled, pushing Kuroo away from himself, who didn’t manage to balance it out and ended sprawled into the grass, laughing to himself as he rolled onto his back, stretched comfortably and kept looking into the night sky.

“Oh, yes you dooo~ You made me your _best man_! Who’s your best man? I’m your best man!”

“‘m already regretting it.”

Kuroo laughed more, sounding so happy, Daichi allowed himself a small smile hidden by the darkness.

“‘s so peaceful lately,” Kuroo sighed. “Life’s … kind.”

Daichi hummed in confirmation. Life had been kind on them, lately. The last winter had been mild on them compared to the one after the incident with Scarlet. Spring had come again, with all its rich promises. And he was fucking married now. Jesus.

“I hope it stays like this for a while longer,” Kuroo muttered to himself. “But … dunno … seems … almost too calm ... “

“Don’t jinx it,” Daichi mumbled back. “The last we need is even more excitement after we survived those weddings. Honestly, after surviving those, we can survive anything.” He chuckled to himself, thinking back at the warmth of Suga’s hand in his.

“We should go to sleep. Can’t let my _husband_ get lonely.”

There was no response.

Kuroo had actually fallen asleep on the grass. Damn cat.

Daichi was a mature, _officially married_ adult who chided guys like Tanaka and Nishinoya a dozen times a day. But it was dark and Daichi would deny it had been him until his last breath, so he dipped his fingers into the ashes and drew Kuroo thick eyebrows and a moustache.

Wiping his fingers clean, he turned to leave, but a movement caught his eye. In complete silence, Daichi watched the miracle that was one of the sheets slowly falling down, fluttering through the air, and covering Kuroo like a blanket. Daichi had to muffle his laughter with both his hands as he stumbled away, gave up halfway to his shelter and sat down to shake with laughter for a bit.

Only then did he get up and curled up next to Suga, wrapping an arm around his waist and burying his nose at his neck. His familiar warmth made Daichi smile, and thinking of Kuroo covered by that damn sheet and with the moustache made him chuckle into Suga’s skin until his husband grumbled and shushed him. He laced their fingers, and Daichi’s last thought before sleep was: _I really hope things will stay like this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested, here's a [short rundown](http://citruswriting.tumblr.com/post/119222050606/promises-a-companion-piece-to-chapter-2-of) of the promises our newly-weds traded the ribbons for! 
> 
> Also the [cutest Hinata!](http://h-inamis.tumblr.com/post/118389873460/i-just-finished-reading-a-really-cool-fic-that)  
> And [beautiful, wonderful Yachi](https://twitter.com/paraplyene/status/599617842741411841) as one of my presents <3  
> Whoever is up for an amazing fanfic set at the end of Lost with us - my friend wrote a [stunningly beautiful piece!!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3956284) For the ultimate Daisuga feels. 
> 
> Gosh, I honestly feel so blessed! What a way to kick this story off!!
> 
> Next update in two weeks c: See you then, you guys~ <3


	3. Tied wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kageyama has an exhausting day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so good to be back!!! <3  
>   
> Okay, two small things out of the way:  
> 1\. Please be mindful of the updated Warnings! I don't want anyone to stumble into this fic unprepared, so I added them in advance to be on the safe side. It's absolutely fine to quit this fic here if you're not comfortable with these themes, no worries!! <3 
> 
> 2\. Why this long pause?! For anyone interested, a longer explanation [here](http://citruswriting.tumblr.com/post/125078396851/on-the-lost-crow-hiatus). The short version: [this](https://twitter.com/citrusfluegel/status/625244052309561344/photo/1) had to happen before I could keep moving. 
> 
> Last but definitely not least!! Fanart!! <3 The first post in the tag nonetheless!!  
> And it's [wonderful Akisaes with their ribbons!](http://volleyowl.tumblr.com/post/120097845814/and-if-the-world-falls-to-ruin-again-our-hands)

“Hey, hey, bro, hey ~”

Nishinoya almost sing-songed the words, wrapping his arm around Tanaka’s shoulder. Tanaka sat with his elbows on his knees, feeling warm and a little bit fuzzy as he stared into the dying flames. The bubbly feeling of happiness inside him whispered that no matter what Nishinoya would say next would be the greatest idea, definitely. Daichi usually didn’t appreciate those, but since he and Suga were out …

“Y’know how I practiced my aim with knives?”

Tanaka had watched Nishinoya break up a sweat with his training ever since the huge battle they had faced - had seen him struggle through the beginning, how he kept going, always, for hours on end. And all along Tanaka had admired his resolve, the fire burning in his eyes. And then his progress.

“Of fucking course I know!” He was almost offended by the notion that he might not.

Nishinoya beamed back at him. “Yeah! So how about you stand in front of the target and I throw knives around you! Imagine if we showed that to Shouyou! He’d be all ‘uwaaah!’”

Tanaka studied the glint in Nishinoya’s eyes, his toothy grin.

Both of them might have had just a tad too much booze and Daichi was nowhere near in sight.

“Bro. That’s the _greatest idea ever_!”

\---

 

The ruckus sent Kageyama’s body into overdrive, a reflexive stance of defense even when he could barely focus his eyes properly. Who knew how late it was. Middle of the night, and Hinata was still fast asleep behind him. Kageyama only relaxed his posture and shifted from his protective stance in front of him when he realised that Tanaka and Nishinoya had burst into the shelter. Hushing them urgently, he ushered them out, unwilling to let them disturb Hinata’s sleep, too. What the hell had happened for them to - … oh.

He realised as he stumbled into the cool night air and saw the dark liquid shining on Tanaka’s arm in the light of the lantern he was holding, no doubt because Nishinoya could not stay still enough to hold it for him. He was trembling all over. “I hurt him, I hurt him, we need Suga -” he repeated, sounding broken, his words a jumbled mess, edged with guilt and fear.

Tanaka made more sense, even though he was the one cradling a bleeding  arm, an injury Kageyama could not yet determine the gravity of. This was not the place to take care of it. Kageyama headed towards the infirmary immediately, the other two followed, Tanaka sounding remarkably calm in all this.

“I’m sort of bleeding. I’ve had worse, I guess. But Suga’s out, so, uh - could you help us - ?”

“Of course.” It sounded horribly dark and annoyed. Kageyama winced. He hadn’t intended it to come out like that, but his voice was heavy from sleep and his social skill lessons from Yachi certainly weren’t in effect right after he woke up in the dead of night.

He found it safer to keep his mouth shut until they had reached the infirmary. “What happened?” he tried to ask Tanaka, when Nishinoya only buried his face in his hands, by now sobbing in his despair. “I hurt you, I’m so sorry, I did this - I caused this -”

Tanaka wrapped his uninjured arm around Nishinoya’s shoulder, crushing him against his side with rough affection. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, I wanted to try it.”

“But I - !”

Kageyama cleared his throat. Guilt and comfort aside, Tanaka was, as he had put it, ‘kind of bleeding’. Which ‘kind of’ needed treatment.

“What happened? Can you hold the lamp a little closer so I can inspect it?”

Tanaka somehow managed to hold the lamp close and offer his arm, while still holding Nishinoya to himself.

“We thought me being the target would be a cool idea, one knife grazed me. We’re kinda buzzed, in retrospect it already feels kinda dumb.”

For once in his life, Kageyama could whole-heartedly understand and agree with any exasperated reaction Daichi had ever shown to the pair of them.

“It’s not actually that bad,” Kageyama was relieved to confirm. “I’ll stitch you up and you’ll be good as new in no time. You were lucky.”

Tanaka snorted. “Haven’t I heard _that one_ a lot. But shit, I hate stitches.” He sobered, giving Kageyama a rueful smile in the light of the lamp. “Guess I had it comin’.”

With something almost like a wail, Nishinoya sat up. He looked like a horrible mess, his eyes puffy and red-rimmed, his hair utterly disheveled, and something like panic in his eyes.

“We need Suga,” he stressed, as if it was the only possibility of saving Tanaka’s life. As if he would die if Kageyama only put a hand on him. “I caused this, but Suga can fix it.”

“Suga is out,” Kageyama explained, trying that whole ‘being patient’ thing Yachi had advised him would be useful as a healer, but frankly, he had a hard time living up to her standards. Without Nishinoya’s insistence he could have started taking care of Tanaka already. “If you’d just stop clinging to him I could take care of Tanaka.”

“No!” Nishinoya flung himself forwards, as if forced to protect Tanaka from further harm. Kageyama ground his teeth, trying not to admit to himself how much the gesture hurt. “Suga! We need Suga!”

“I’m _not your enemy,_ ” Kageyama growled, the words feeling like salt on an open wound as they left his lips. “Suga is _not here,_ but _I am._ I am a healer, too!” His voice rose without him meaning to. “So let me do my job!”

Both Nishinoya and Tanaka blinked at him owlishly, and Kageyama suddenly felt vulnerable under their gazes. He drew back in on himself a little, fists still at his side. The sudden silence rang so loudly between them, with each heartbeat Kageyama was more sure that he had just messed up. Big time.

Then Nishinoya quietly shuffled aside, his head bowed. “Please take care of him,” he whispered. Tanaka seemed completely taken aback, his gaze and the way he carefully rested a hand between Nishinoya’s shoulder blades making Kageyama feel like there might be more weight to this moment than he could grasp.

He swallowed. “Of course,” he repeated, still gruff, but ringing with the knowledge that Tanaka would be okay in no time, that he could help. 

 

\---

“How do you even survive.”

Hinata’s gaze snapped up to him, his glare watered down by his twisted expression as he held his stomach. (Not like there was a need to glare. Kageyama’s question was only mildly meant to tease and mostly a real question. This was honestly ridiculous.)

“What’s that supposed to mean!” Hinata snapped, his stomach adding a fairly impressive gurgling noise to emphasise his words.

Kageyama shook his head. “We’ve travelled the world together and now you still get a stomach ache before we go on a day trip to the city?”

“It wasn’t the entire world,” Hinata muttered defensively. “We don’t even know what lies beyond the sea.”

“Nobody knows that, idiot. Did you drink your tea? You can’t travel if you -”

“I’ll be fine!” Hinata grumbled, in perfect unison with his stomach. It was kind of fascinating.

“If you say so. Drink your tea.” Kageyama nudged the cup closer to him before he pushed himself up. “You better be ready.”

“Bluh, bluh, bluh! I told you, I’ll be _fine!”_

Kageyama flicked Hinata’s forehead, his lip twitching up into a smile at the indignant little noise Hinata made in response. “Do your best.” The ensuing complaints were quickly swallowed by the distance as Kageyama left their shelter, stretching lazily when the rising sun hit his skin. The air still tasted fresh, loaded with promises for a whole new day, and with the weariness long vanished from Kageyama’s muscles, he felt eager to get moving, even when camp lay mostly sleepy and still.

Ennoshita had led Kinoshita and Narita out already, and all three of them had said quick goodbyes - they had left without their bows, eager to enjoy a little walk in the peaceful forest. Kageyama could absolutely understand it. He was aching to leave the boundaries of camp, too.

The day would be warm and gentle, just perfect to start their trip to the city.

Kageyama was perfectly happy living his life back home, but the little trip ahead still had him excited. It was the perfect balance. Not too far, but enough to stretch his wings a little. That Hinata and Yachi were coming along only meant the cherry on top. Of course, Kiyoko would be coming, too … and while they were on friendly terms, Kageyama still got a little nervous around her. But he’d be fine. The other two would surely balance out the awkwardness - they always did.

“Ready for the trip?” Suga called over to him, his hair dishevelled and eyes a little bleary. He’d never be a morning person, him being up this early on a day where nobody had to rise early for any pressing tasks was probably the biggest sign of love one could get. Kageyama scoffed as he walked over, thinking of Hinata again and his sheer inability to handle even the smallest _hint_ of travelling without getting an upset stomach.

“Well, _I am,_ but Hinata -”

Suga snorted, shaking his head with a fond little grin. “Kids grow up, but some things never change, I guess. Always with his nervous stomach.”

“You make it sound like that’s a good thing.”

Suga patted his shoulder. “You raise some kids, and then we talk.”

Whatever that was supposed to mean. Kageyama squared his shoulders, willed to talk about things which were much more important. “Would you take a look at the medical kit I prepared? I’m confident I included everything I’ll need, but maybe I _did_ … forget ... something …” He furrowed his eyebrows, meeting the glint in Suga’s eyes with defiance, his skin crawling already at the mischievous grin his teacher was giving him.

“Aww, are we getting humble again?”

Kageyama found his efforts to control the heat on his cheeks futile and his fingernails to be really interesting. He’d _almost_ thought he would manage to escape any comments on that … incident. Daichi had already piled any possible uncomfortable task imaginable on Tanaka and Nishinoya and Saeko had laughed the loudest at her idiot brother after she had been reassured he was going to be fine.

“Don’t get embarrassed now!”, Suga laughed, clapping his shoulder. “You were right.”

“I just thought any time later - and it would’ve been worse … besides, I am a healer,” Kageyama added, almost defiant again. Why did this talk fluster him so much? Why did Suga have to grin like that? But then it softened to something less devious and much more genuine. Kageyama found himself relax a little.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Suga asked, putting a finger to his lip conspiratorially.

“Uh … yes?” Kageyama honestly wasn’t sure.

“Three years.” Suga took a second to savour the look of surprise on Kageyama’s face before he kept going. “It took me three years to get Nishinoya to let me touch one of his friends. Life hasn’t made it easy for him to trust. But once you gain it … you’ll never lose it.”

Oh.

“It only took you two years,” Suga hummed. “I’m almost jealous now. Good job, Kageyama. I’m proud of you.”

Kageyama nodded stiffly, unable to find anything to say. He blurted something out that at least resembled words and went to brush Meatball to sort his thoughts.

 

Nishinoya shuffled in, all awkward drag of his feet and a sheepishness Kageyama really wasn’t used from him, a little while later when Meatball was already happily munching away on carrots he offered her on his hand.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” Nishinoya asked, not quite meeting his eyes. Kageyama swallowed hard, his awkward senses tingling. Why did he have to keep stumbling into situations like these? Why couldn’t he just go on this trip in peace?

He just wanted to feed his horse before travelling. And recover from talking to Suga.

“Sure,” he answered, because he didn’t love himself.

Nishinoya took a deep breath, then raised his gaze. His eyes were genuine, burning with emotions he would voice facing him, because Nishinoya was brave like that. Kageyama didn’t dare look away, it felt wrong to.

“I’m very sorry for yesterday! And thank you!”, Nishinoya called, bowing deep. “I fucked up and you took care of my friend! I will never forget that!” He straightened back up, eyes still burning. “I owe you. So if ya ever need anything, I’m here, you hear me?! I got your back! You can trust in me!”

Kageyama opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to settle on _Don’t thank me for that!_ or _It was only natural!_ so it ended up as “Don’t thank me only natural!”, but he was already bowing in turn when he realised how he had messed up, face burning.

Nishinoya burst into laughter, and startled Kageyama when he ruffled his hair. “You’re such an earnest, hilarious guy! I’m glad to have you at camp.”

Even with all of Kageyama’s senses going into overdrive at all this affection and appreciation, he somehow managed to choke out “It’s good to know you have my back!” before he simply hinted at a bow again and rushed out of the stable, absolutely overwhelmed with the course of today.

It figured he would stumble into Daichi when his face was still burning, and get the biggest grin as an answer. For a second Kageyama was honestly determined to dodge Daichi altogether, but then he stretched out his arm and put it around Kageyama’s shoulders, effectively trapping him in place and embarrassment.

“Son,” Daichi said, clearly just to fluster Kageyama even more, who still couldn’t help but react to being called … that. Nobody had ever called him their son before. Maybe that’s why Daichi liked to stress and overuse the title so much. Ever since Kageyama had secretly confessed that fact to him, Daichi had simply not stopped with it.

“Did Nishinoya talk to you?” he asked, his grin giving away that of course he knew the answer.

“Suga, too. I think I really need to get going and check on Hinata now -”

“Oh, don’t worry! Yachi is already taking care of him. You and me, we have all the time in the world.”

Why did this sound so much like a threat?

“We’re just going on a city trip,” Kageyama groaned. “Why does everyone have to get so touchy-feelsy?!”

Daichi squeezed his shoulder, sounding a little wistful when he spoke. “It just feels nostalgic, watching you leave. Good to know you’ll be home much sooner this time around.” Then, his tone shifted, much more light hearted. “What do you want me to do, throw you into the dust instead?!”

Now _that_ was an idea Kageyama could get behind.

“If I don’t flip you over first!”

“Oh, _bring it_.”

Their casual contact morphed right into a sparring match, Daichi as usual the toughest opponent Kageyama could imagine. They were out of breath and completely stuck, neither able to move without risking to lose while having the other locked, when Hinata saved them both face and gave them an excuse to break this session up as he came over.

“Am I … interrupting training? Can we leave now?” Hinata shot Kageyama a glare which was - in his opinion - utterly unwarranted. “You go ahead and tell me off for a little stomach ache but waste your time sparring!”

Kageyama spluttered, a million retorts for that on his tongue, when Daichi stepped forward. “It’s my fault. I had to teach him an important lesson.”

Hinata, obviously finding that excuse a little fishy, looked between the two of them. “What kind of lesson?”

Daichi looked at Kageyama when he answered, smiling. “That family will always embarrass you. But at the end of the day, you still love every second of it.”

 

\---

 

Kageyama could _feel_ Hinata’s little smirk as he sent him sideways glances on their way to the stable, saddle bags in hand.

“What,” he scoffed, zero patience to wait for Hinata to start with his teasing.

“You look kinda red.”

“And you look kinda dumb.”

“Hey!” Hinata’s defensive ‘fight me’ stance failed from the sheer luggage in his hands, but the reflex to shift into it still made him jerk in place. His eyes were sparking with challenge. “You’re not one to talk! I’m just saying, you look like you always do when stuff makes you happy but you don’t know how to deal with it.” Grinning wider at Kageyama’s stunned silence, Hinata hoisted up the bags more safely into his arms. “Like right now! Your face goes all ‘gwaah!’”

Before Kageyama could snap ‘“That’s it” and push his elbow into Hinata’s side, he talked over him again. “You look like you did before we went on our adventure, somehow.”

The atmosphere between them shifted, the challenge dying from Hinata’s eyes, making room for an unwavering, unspoken question in them.

Kageyama wondered whether that question was ever going to leave him.

“Well, we’re only going on one little city trip,” he answered, stiffly. “It’s not like we’re actually leaving. Not my fault people are so sentimental.”

Hinata kicked some dirt, nodding with a smile too tight around the corners to be acceptable for Kageyama, who dumped his bags, startling Hinata into whirling around to him with wide eyes.

“Come here,” Kageyama demanded, arms finally free and with the clutter of luggage at his feet. Hinata’s mouth opened, then closed. He hastily shook his head. What did he think Kageyama intended to do? Taking a step forward - if Hinata wouldn’t come over, then Kageyama would - only made it worse. Just like Kageyama earlier, Hinata dropped all the bags he was carrying, taking off in hasty flight.

“Oi! You dumbass!” Kageyama snapped, chasing after him immediately. Despite his size, Hinata was so damn agile and _determined,_ he took off like an arrow and didn’t slow down in the slightest.

“Noooo!”, he yelled dramatically, as if Kageyama was an attacker come here to end his life, his shouting drowning out any attempt of an explanation Kageyama had started and then abandoned for insults anyway.  

By the time Kageyama was red-faced and wheezing for air, he put his hands on his knees and gave up on catching Hinata, who was half-hiding behind a bush which didn’t conceal more than his legs, eyes still narrowed in suspicion.

With an exasperated groan, Kageyama straightened and spread his arms, barking: “Do you want a hug or not?!”

Hinata looked like someone had knocked the breath out of him, and Kageyama’s throat felt tight. The sentence set him back in time, to the moment when Hinata had embraced him for the first time. When Kageyama had experienced the first contact of that kind since … years. He bit his lip, cursing himself for getting sentimental now, too.

Hinata came over, his first steps slow, then he sprinted until he knocked into Kageyama with so much force, he had to put a foot back to stabilise them both, squeezing him tightly. Kageyama wrapped his arms around him in turn, holding him close. He buried his nose in Hinata’s hair, his chest feeling tight.

“I don’t plan on leaving, you hear me?” he whispered, because it was important, and maybe one day it would get through Hinata’s thick skull. “You’re here. So I don’t plan on leaving ever. Understood?”

Hinata only hugged him more tightly in turn, whispering a quiet “Okay” into his chest. Kageyama liked to imagine that Hinata’s hidden expression was a smile.

At least for Kageyama, it was.

\---

 

Tanaka had found them like this, and under lots of teasing, Hinata and Kageyama had finally gotten ready for their departure. The rest of their goodbyes lacked the sappiness of the day, thank God. Their family stood, waving and calling demands for them to bring home only the best, and then the silence of the forest enveloped them, the morning only busy with singing birds and the ever rising sun far over the green roof above them.

It did feel nostalgic, Kageyama had to admit. Hinata sitting in front of him, Kageyama’s arms around him as he held the reigns while Meatball kept and kept trotting through the forest, despite her heavy luggage. She’d always been such a good girl, Kageyama had never regret buying what people had told them was a dying horse. Both Hinata and him had believed she could recover, and sure, it had meant to keep going by foot for another month.

But now she was strong and stubborn and meant the world to both of them.

Yachi and Kiyoko followed them on Runner, the path out of the forest too thin to ride side by side, so they were bound to comfortable silence except for calling out directions or maybe pointing out first berries. Sometimes, Kageyama rested his chin on Hinata’s shoulder like he used to, and Hinata complained about it like he used to, and it felt peaceful.

Slightly nostalgic, bittersweet with memories of a time he would never return to. Despite that feeling, Kageyama did not mind that their journey had come to an end. Being home was worth just as much. He pressed a kiss to Hinata’s neck, where he knew he was ticklish, and grinned at the ensuing protest. Hinata sat with his cheek pressed to his shoulder for a while, scoffing when Kageyama teasingly blew into his hair.

As the ride went on and on, the sun wandering in the sky, the pleasure of it slowly turned to strain so when Yachi called for them to stop and Kageyama realised they had reached their first stop he was more relieved than anything.

When he got back on the ground, his butt hurt and his muscles were aching. These days they only took Meatball out for short distances so she wouldn’t get bored, not on day trips uninterrupted except for small breaks to eat and drink.

Besides, eventually he had gotten very tired of Hinata’s hair tickling his nose.

Hinata and Yachi ventured off to make sure their shelter for the night was neither stranger nor animal infested, while Kiyoko and Kageyama relieved the horses of their luggage and saddles and dried them off. Neither of them talked as they also offered treats and water, but for once, it was pleasant. Tired and worn out, Kageyama was grateful that Kiyoko did not possess any of the energy the combined sunshine children showed as they started fixing the cave back up, talking happily.

The shelter was nothing more than a cave, really, prepped with bedding and a fireplace in front. Hinata had started complaining about other people who must have used the cave and left a mess, brushing bones and dust and leaves out of it with a bundle of twigs, while Yachi had started working on making a fire.

“Maybe you two could gather some wood!”, she proposed, causing Kageyama and Kiyoko to trade one awkward glance, quickly interrupted as both of them looked away again. Kiyoko rubbed her arm, clearly uncomfortable. “I guess.”

With a patient sigh, Yachi ushered Kiyoko closer. “Or you could take over the fire if that’s okay with you? And I’ll go with Kageyama?”

“Alright.” Kiyoko crouched down, and Kageyama found no offense in how relieved she seemed, not when he felt the same.

 

“It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Yachi’s voice startled Kageyama, who had been lulled into a serene state of silence and relaxation, his muscles tired and his mind pleasantly quiet as well. Not sure about her context, he looked up to meet her eyes, gleaming determined, but with a certain softness to them. There was that crease between her brows, that one that meant she was worrying about something. To be fair, it almost never vanished. Kageyama felt a sudden rush of fondness for her.

“Kiyoko’s silence. It’s … honestly, it’s not about you! I wish I could … explain.” She started fidgeting, dropping some of the wood in the process. With a heavy sigh and an apology she bent over to pick them back up. Kageyama didn’t quite know what to answer, so he stayed quiet. “She doesn’t avoid you because she doesn’t like you. It’s … she has her reasons. It’s not my place to tell you, but I need you to know that, okay?” Yachi sent him a smile. “Just keep it in mind, please!”

“Uhh, okay, I guess?” He wasn’t quite sure what to answer, but Yachi seemed a little more relieved, so his shoulders relaxed in turn. That couldn’t have been so wrong, then.

“Things have been so harsh on her,” Yachi kept musing, sending him another glance. “On both of you, really. But it makes me so happy to see how you’ve changed! Those smiles belong on your faces!”

“Th-thanks?” Kageyama replied, still feeling a little out of his depth. It made Yachi laugh, a sound like bells, like warm summer evenings when happiness came as a quiet comfort and filled his chest. He loved Yachi’s laughter, loved so much about the life he led now.

Maybe he did understand where she was coming from.

“The past doesn’t really matter anymore anyway,” he said, meaning both his own and whatever might have happened to Kiyoko that had made her silence so impermeable. “Not where we are now.”

The past meant things best forgotten, and Kageyama was grateful that he could move on from it everyday. Yachi smiled a bright smile, inclining her head. “I guess you’re right! Hah, sorry, I’ve been a little gloomy now, haven’t I?”

“It’s fine.”

They fell back into comfortable silence for a little, kept collecting wood in peace. Kageyama had just started fantasising about food and stretching out on the bedding, when he dropped a bit of the wood piled on his stack. Yachi bent down to retrieve it quickly, popping back into his line of vision and placing it on top again with a glint in her eyes that should have prepared Kageyama for what was about to come, but didn’t.

“Y’know, if you married Hinata, you’d be my brother in law!” It took all of his willpower to not drop all the wood then and there. “It’d be nice, don’t you think? You’re something like a little or big brother already anyway, but brother in law has a nice ring to it anyway.”

Taking one glance at Kageyama’s expression, Yachi sighed. “You boys are so easily flustered.”

_You boys are so easily flustered._ Wait, had she told Hinata that, too?! Had she … dear Lord. Had she mentioned the whole brother in law thing to him. Was that what had gotten him so worked up this morning?! How was Kageyama supposed to face him again.

He imagined Hinata in the cave, tried to imagine looking him in the eyes again. But his thoughts stuck like a chipped fingernail on cloth, on a tiny detail Kageyama hadn’t grasped, not yet. He saw Hinata swiping the bones out with his tiny make-shift broom again, and then.

Then.

“Yachi.”

Something in his tone must have alarmed her immediately, all banter forgotten. “What is it?”

“Those bones. The bones Hinata got rid of. Didn’t they have a bit of meat left on them?” Yachi seemed deep in thought, trying to remember, but Kageyama had already answered his own question. He’d definitely seen it. “We’re not alone here. We have to go back!”

Those people hadn’t shown themselves. His life experience had taught Kageyama to never believe in coincidences like that. He broke into something almost like a run, Yachi struggling to keep up with him and balance the wood at the same time.

The sinking feeling of dread turned into foreboding _knowledge_ that something had gone wrong, and Kageyama simply discarded his load. Trusting his instincts, Yachi did the same, their steps automatically growing more mindful, quiet and faster at the same time, rushing back to the shelter.

Kageyama prayed that his instincts would betray him.

That all this was just his past altering the way he saw the present, tinging it darker than it should have been.

But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t.

Both Meatball and Runner were pulling on their reigns, in desperate struggle to get away from the source of their terror as Kiyoko and Hinata struggled against a group of attackers yielding blunt, worn knives.

Kageyama met Yachi’s gaze for a second, both nodding before jumping straight into battle. With a scream, Yachi flung herself at someone who had been about to stab Hinata, pulling them back and rendering them unconscious in a matter of seconds. Kageyama attacked the first best woman from behind, immediately disarming her and finding her an easy match in hand-to-hand combat. Compared to the harsh training he’d gone through with Daichi, this was child’s play.

He knocked her out, then joined Kiyoko struggling against three people ganging up on her. As soon as he dragged one of them off and forced them to face him instead, Kiyoko’s movements gained fluency again and she struck back with terrifying precision. _She taught Yachi. She’s even better, even more terrifying._

Sudden confidence rushed through Kageyama. With fighters like Kiyoko and Yachi on their side, this fight would be over even faster than it began.

“Now, now, now!” A voice rose above the sound of battle, and the undertone of it forced Kageyama to shift his attention, putting his opponent into a hold which rendered her immobile so she couldn’t attack him when he was distracted. “I think y’all don’t wanna make this mistake. It’d be a shame to spill this precious blood, don’t you think?”

Kageyama’s heart stopped for a second. _Hinata._ With a painful pang it picked back up, beating a hard, furious rhythm. A man stood in the middle of the battle field, roughly yanking on Hinata’s hair, pressing a blade against his throat. Hinata stood open-mouthed, trying to breathe shallowly with the sharp edge pressing down against his skin, pupils blown in terror. Hot anger and ice cold resolve flooded Kageyama’s body, and yet, he couldn’t move a muscle, rendered as immobile as the attacker in his hold.

Yachi and Kiyoko had both frozen where they stood, their faces showing the same emotions which were eating Kageyama up from the inside out.

He bared his teeth, unable to come up with a plan which wouldn’t end with Hinata’s throat slid open, coming up with nothing but complying.

“Ah, now I got your attention. Good for you, boy.” The guy seized Hinata up like a prized cow, some valuable property. Kageyama wanted to drag him off his most precious person and give that bastard a piece of his mind. As soon as he did get his hands on him, he would suffer for this.

“So, I take it you will cooperate now? Step back from my people, nice and slow. That’s more like it, yeah. Not a wrong move, you hear me? Redheads don’t sell good enough for me to spare him just ‘cause you couldn’t control your little fantasies of playing hero right now. Just play nice with us and I promise, none of you get hurt.”

 

\---

 

By the time darkness fell, Kageyama could not feel his hands anymore from the tight ropes keeping them bound on his back. Yachi had stopped crying into her knees, but she still hadn’t moved her head away from them, and it ripped Kageyama’s heart apart that he was unable to comfort her in any way, with a dirty cloth shoved in his mouth and sitting too far away to offer any silent comfort. Hinata was tied against the tree next to her, and Kageyama didn’t have to read his thoughts or hear him say anything to know he was likely feeling crushed by unnecessary guilt he shouldn’t put on himself.

Kiyoko was close to him, her gaze trained on Yachi as if it could keep her safe, grant any comfort. And all the while, Kageyama was struggling to come up with a goddamn plan.

Crow had already set off, no doubt to alarm Karasuno. And yet they were an entire day away from home. That was if you travelled by horse. But both Meatball and Runner were still tied next to the shelter, shuffling their hooves nervously, clearly realising that something very wrong was taking place here.

It would take far too long until any help arrived for them. But they’d been stripped of any weapons which could have helped cut the ropes, were unable to communicate with each other. There was nothing he could _do_ and it drove Kageyama _insane_.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, spent with his thoughts going in circles and trying to will the taste and feeling of his gag away, when he could pick up footsteps approaching him. A man and a woman, the latter holding a lantern which she only lit when she was out of sight from the others in the shelter.

This meant either excellent or horrible news.

The guy who sat guard in front of them got to his feet, but before he could do more than open his mouth, the woman moved quickly, pressing a cloth to his face. He dropped to the ground, unconscious, and she stepped over him without a hint of remorse.

Kageyama swallowed, feeling cold all over. Dread so strong his instinct told him to jump up, struggle free, grab his friends and run. Just run, get back home to the safety of camp where a group like this wouldn’t have stood a chance.

“Ai, you take care of our safety net. Wouldn’t want this guy to unleash his skills on me.”

Kageyama’s eyes darted between the two, his gut twisting in anticipation of the worst when he saw the woman - Ai - zero in on Hinata, the man’s eyes boring into his own forehead.

“Check Black Beauty first,” the woman answered, unsheathing a dagger which glinted silver in the moonlight, drove a cold shiver down Kageyama’s spine and made anger pool in his stomach again. “That fighting style had Jouzenji’s mark. Her mark would be on her wrist.”

He could hear Kiyoko inhale sharply next to him, and while Kageyama wanted to throw himself against the ropes holding him back, fight for whatever made her tremble with nerves, he didn’t dare move. The woman made sure to place her dagger back at Hinata’s throat, who raised his head as far as it would go, but soon had no space to flee from the threat. Could only endure.

Kageyama wanted to tear this entire forest apart if he had to just to keep these _bastards_ from hurting the people dear to him. And all he could do was sit as the man hissed “Don’t move now, honey, or your friend pays the price” and leaned over Kiyoko, untying her hands to yank her left wrist forwards.

Come to think of it, Kageyama had never seen it uncovered. He’d always thought Kiyoko simply liked tying colourful bandanas around it, or wearing a huge amount of bracelets Yachi had woven for her. Somehow it had never occurred to him that she might have tried to hide something.

A mark, as Kageyama could see in the light of the lantern. Black ink Kioko would never be able to get rid of, only cover up with colourful accessories. A mark with a story behind it Kageyama knew nothing about, but made his heart clench when he realised the way Kiyoko recoiled, hiding her face as if in shame, as if she couldn’t even stand to look at it.

“Got it, that’s the mark alright. She’s a small fish but court will pay for one of those dirty spies.”

“God knows how much they wrecked,” Ai replied, a grin in her voice. “But that’s not the prize we’re after.”

“You’re right,” the man replied, and Kageyama jerked forwards, his shout muffled by the gag when he pressed the same cloth from before to Kiyoko’s mouth. She struggled against it, her scream just as muffled, before she went limp. Yachi made a noise like a wounded animal, and then there was the slightest, pained gasp from Hinata.

“All of you, quiet,” the woman hissed. “ _She’s_ unconscious, but _he_ doesn’t have to be once I’m done with him.”

Kageyama trembled where he sat as he had to watch the man drag Kiyoko away from them, leaving her to lie on the ground behind him like a discarded doll, tying her hands back up even though she was unconscious.

_They’re going to take her away,_ Kageyama realised. _They will take her away._

Then the man turned, his gaze on Kageyama.

The mark. They had checked for her mark. They would look at his back and see the half-burned mark left there.

_The past doesn’t really matter anymore anyway. Not where we are now._

He’d been wrong. So, so wrong. Kageyama felt like he might be sick, and at the same time, he wanted to _fight_ , fight for a chance to escape this encounter alive, not trapped in place by the threat of losing Hinata. _Cowards_ , their attackers were nothing but _cowards_.

“This one looks like a feral dog alright,” the man sneered. “Make sure to keep his friend a little too close to death so he won’t try anything.”

Kageyama grit his teeth, trembling with the effort of staying still. His mind rushed through possibilities now that his hands were untied, but he could clearly see Hinata’s struggle, the thin trail of blood down his neck dark against the pale of his skin in the night. Vulnerable, too precious to be put at risk.

There was nothing he could do, no way to fight, no way to protect his friends, let alone himself. 

Honestly, there was only once choice to make. He reached up, dragging the gag away from his mouth. “I’ll comply,” he growled, the man flinching by the sound of his voice while the woman’s hand jerked, ready to slash out if anything more happened. His move had been risky, but the only option left. The only chance he had to keep the others safe. “But you can’t hurt them. You can’t!”

The woman laughed. “Do you think you’re in any place to bargain with us?”

Kageyama’s mouth felt dry like sandpaper, his jaw aching from the gag. He hadn’t had anything to drink or eat in far too long. “I’m the one you’re seeking. I’ll come with you willingly if you just let the other three go.”

“You hear that? He thinks we’d actually believe such a cheap deal. Yeah, no. Nice try.” Both of them chuckled, and Kageyama wanted to scream. “The good news is, Ai is done threatening the other two - we’ll leave them to our friends while we make off with the jackpot. Good night, feral dog.”

Kageyama’s hands rushed up to keep the cloth from being pressed to his face instinctively, but the man forced it on him with so much force, his head hit the back of the tree. He held his breath as long as he could, finally forced to breathe in.

His senses went fuzzy, went numb.

He lost control of his body, felt himself drooping sideways, his thoughts sluggish and slow. Reduced to emotions. Confusion. Fear. There was something on his wrists again. His body dragged away. The rough ground against his cheek. Kageyama tried to force his eyes open. He couldn’t. There was something important. Something loud.

Someone shouting. So much shouting.

Kageyama’s body was lifted, and he tried to struggle, but his body wouldn’t comply. He fought and fought whatever kept him so disoriented, so useless. But the harder he struggled, the deeper it dragged him down. And yet he kept and kept _trying._

The screams were _important_. Something horrible was happening. And yet his body was limp. Someone man-handled him, heaved him up.

Ropes were slung across his body, tied him in place. He had to _open his eyes_. Run. Fight.

He couldn't. The darkness soaked him down to his mind and heart. Snatched his voice and body.

But not his will.

He forced his eyes open at last. His lips tried to form a word, but failed. He could barely make out anything. Some struggle, movement in his blurry vision. And the words. The words …

He fought harder, his hands twitching.

“Wherever you are, wherever they take you!” With a jerk, they started moving. Farther away from a voice he _couldn’t leave._ For a split-second he managed to push through the dark surface filling his mouth, filling his mind, filling his eyes. _Hinata._

“I will find you! _I WILL FIND YOU!”_

Then, a broken noise. Kageyama’s hand twitched again, trying to reach out.

Another cloth was pressed over his nose and mouth, forced him into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foolish kids. Haven't you seen the title of the fic?! 
> 
> The next update might take a little longer again, since I need to get all the planning that is left into order beforehand. But after that it should be smooth sailing and regular updates from there~ 
> 
> Thanks for your patience and feedback, you guys <3
> 
> And thanks to you, Vika, for helping me out in making this chapter a whooole lot better!!


	4. Caged animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a rescue mission is set in motion which may just come too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS!!! GUYS!!!! Gaaaah I'm so excited. Time to get back to a REGULAR schedule! I can't promise a set day, but definitely a weekly update. Let's do this - we still have three more chapters to go until the prologue finishes. The _prologue_. 
> 
> And I come bearing gifts from incredible artists who took the time and effort to create beautiful art and playlists ☆♥☆
> 
> A super amazing playlist for those[sweet tunes](http://yamaguchitadaashi.tumblr.com/post/125460474383/lost-with-us)
> 
> !!!!!!!!!!!! [Sleepy!!!!! Children!!!!!!!!](http://maridiamsy15.tumblr.com/post/126850660444/the-raven-boys-for-wonderful-nico-come-and-get)
> 
>  [THE TRIO ♥](http://retcur.tumblr.com/post/126892230007)
> 
>  AND JUST!!! [I have no words](http://rokitou.tumblr.com/post/128706373804/fanart-for-come-and-get-lost-with-us-by)
> 
> Frankly, I consider myself the luckiest person alive. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Please appreciate these wonderful people <3

The clatters of swords rang in Kenma's ears, stretched out in the grass comfortably. Next to him, Yamaguchi had abandoned the work on another arrow in his lap, gaze transfixed on where Tsukishima and Kuroo were training, whirling. They'd been going at it for so long, there was no breath left for snarky comments to rile each other up. Only a couple minutes more, probably, before they'd call it quits for the day.

Kenma sat up, remembering he'd brought some raisins from earlier – he couldn't care less about them, but Yamaguchi liked them.

That was when the dark shadow in the sky brought a warning that ripped the sleepy haze of contempt from him immediately.

Kenma stretched out his arm in greeting when Crow swooped down in a hurried flash. The poor bird seemed completely out of it, shaking her wings wildly, slapping him in the face multiple times and cawing at him with so much fervour, Yamaguchi's eyes were wide with the same terror Kenma felt.

Kenma’s chest felt constricted when he choked out: “Something must have happened.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes were swimming with fear – Kenma knew Yamaguchi's imagination was running places just as much as his, painting all the horrible things that could've happened to their friends. Knowing far too well that too much imagination could paralyse you more than it helped, Kenma tried to snap him out of it.

But as soon as he'd opened his mouth, the glazed over look in Yamaguchi's eyes disappeared with a blink, making room for resolve. “We have to go help them.”

Not taking the time to voicing his admiration for that, Kenma nodded, pushed himself up to interrupt Kuroo and Tsukishima and alert them. The anxiety crawling up his throat got worse with each step, the sun already starting to sink on the horizon. He wished he could combat spiralling thoughts with resolve like Yamaguchi had done, but – he couldn't help the questions buzzing.

How long had Crow been flying? How far had they come before they had been … what? Ambushed?

Crow still kept cawing in terror, and Kenma took his time to stroke her head and back, making soothing little noises to get her to calm down a little. Hinata’s pet had never looked so ruffled and out of it, Kenma was worried she might just stress herself into a heart attack. He started digging in his pockets for the raisins, knowing how much she loved them.

“Kuroo!” he called, knowing his voice would reach his friend’s ears without fail. Taking one look at his face and Crow on Kenma’s arm, Kuroo lowered his weapon and jogged over to him without hesitation, Tsukishima on his heels. Kuroo's presence soothed Kenma at least a little.

“Crow came back,” Kuroo stated, darkly. “Shit.”

That pretty much summed it up.

Tsukishima stayed quiet, expression neutral to anyone else, but Kenma knew him enough to see his darkened eyes, read the signs of worry in the slight wrinkle above the bridge of his nose.

The silence that fell was loaded. Kenma took the time to feed the raisins to Crow, worried about the insane speed she must have kept up to reach them so fast. Considering how out of it she was, there were ways to go before they would find Hinata's group.

This mission was already looking to be almost impossible.

“It’s about to get dark,” Kenma stated, holding Kuroo’s gaze.

The leader steeled his shoulders. “Then we’d better get going.”

  


\---

  


“Daichi, for real. We’ve got this.” Kuroo shot Tsukishima and Yamaguchi questioning glances to confirm it was alright to volunteer them as well, not bothering to look in Kenma’s direction. He knew his resolve without needing to ask.

Yamaguchi nodded fervently, while Tsukishima clicked his tongue and offered a pointedly bored: “Of course.”

“Something happened out there with my kids and you want me to just _stay put_ ?!” Daichi was beyond agitated, to a point where his reaction had scared Crow off and caused her to seek out Asahi instead. Kenma kept quiet, the furthest behind the group. But Kuroo took a step forwards and grasped Daichi’s arm, meeting his gaze with intent. “Daichi. _Trust me._ They’re your _kids_ and we’ll bring them back. You’ve last slept - when exactly? Tsukishima and I could fight together blindly, Yamaguchi could take anyone on with his bow and Kenma has the sharpest mind I’ve ever encountered. We’ve got this. I just wanted you to know before we leave.”

The set of Daichi’s jaw was hard, and he averted his gaze, staring at the ground. “Fine,” he ground out, at last. Kuroo brushed his hand up to his shoulder, squeezing it.

“We won’t fail. Count on us. I promise you I'll bring them back.”

  


\---

  


“We’re going to buy a horse. Maybe two, or three,” Kuroo mumbled for the tenth time in the past hour. Kenma didn’t have the energy to tell him to shut up, and found himself agreeing with the notion. It would have spared them hurrying through the forest by foot in the middle of the night. Even with the light of the lantern, fatigue and the lingering shadows made Kenma trip over roots and rocks more and more often. They hadn’t allowed themselves to rest since they had departed camp – and they couldn't afford it.

Yet, Kenma found himself nearing his physical boundaries. Being unfit compared to the rest of his mismatched family usually wasn’t an issue - but here and now, Kenma hated himself for it. In the end he might be the one to hold them back and doom Hinata and everyone else even more. He grit his teeth, nails digging into his palms, and forced himself onward.

Worse than fatigue and his aching ankles from tripping and bending his foot the wrong way was his mind painting and painting pictures of what might be happening to his friends right now.

Crow followed them like a shadow, much slower than usual, obviously overly tired as well. But she wouldn’t stay in camp no matter how much Kenma had tried to ward her off – and the bird would not act like this over nothing.

When she finally settled for sitting down on his shoulder and undertaking the journey that way, he was at least relieved that she wouldn’t end up dead from the exhaustion before they could reach Hinata and … save all of them, from whatever had happened.

Yamaguchi had tried, earlier, to help Kenma ease up a little with some advice Yachi had given him a long time ago. Maybe it was the shadows all around that made it so hard to believe in any light to their situation – somehow, Kenma had not exactly found comfort in the explanation, and eventually, Yamaguchi had become flustered and apologised and sped up his steps.

Kenma felt almost sorry for that, wondering how to make up for that as he watched Yamaguchi's back before him.

With a squawking voice, Yamaguchi tripped and fell. Kenma had already taken two long strides when he froze, realising his assistance wasn't needed – Kuroo had caught Yamaguchi's arm, quick to steady him.

“You okay?” he breathed, voice sounding loud in the middle of the silence which had enveloped them for a while now.

“F-fine. Thank you.”

“Good.” Kuroo patted his shoulder a bit awkwardly, letting himself fall behind Yamaguchi again. Kenma’s lips curled into the hint of a smile which felt like a relief after the last minutes he had spent trying to claw the image of pale, bleeding Hinata out of his mind.

“Smooth,” he whispered, just loud enough for Kuroo and nobody else to hear him.

His friend almost flinched, sending him a disgruntled glance over his lantern. “Shut up.”

Kenma only sent him a dead-pan glance.

“You can be such a pain,” was the answer to that.

Kenma shrugged. “I'm only replying in kind.”

Kuroo scoffed, nudging his shoulder in mock-revenge. They fell back into comfortable silence, while Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were talking in hushed voices ahead. Kenma caught something about being more careful, but tried his best not to listen in on more. It wasn't his place.

After a while, Kenma could feel Kuroo’s scrutinising gaze on him. Of course his friend would have noticed what was going on with him. Before he could open his mouth to say something about it, Kenma cut him off. “We can’t afford to rest, we have to keep moving if we want to be there before anything worse happens.”

Kuroo closed his mouth again, looking like he was contemplating something. “We don’t need to stop for you to rest a little. Hey, Kenma?”

He lifted his hand, rubbing his fingers together in unvoiced question between them – _you alright with touch?_

He'd been too absorbed in his fear to even pay attention to it, but even his frayed nerves didn't protest the stimulation. The idea of being touched - rather than making him internally recoil - didn't seem so bad. So he nodded back, but when Kuroo immediately moved closer, his eyes still narrowed.

“What’re you trying to - _Kuro - !”_

His noise of protest was completely ignored when Kuroo nonchalantly crouched in front of him, grabbed him behind his knees and heaved him up onto his back on one fluent movement. Kenma lightly smacked his back, wiggling his legs. “Let me down!”

“What did you say? Couldn’t hear you~”

“Idiot,” Kenma muttered, relaxing into the hold. “Is this really okay? You’ll get tired.”

“Rest, Kenma. I’ll be fine.”

Kenma wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s neck, resting his chin on his shoulder. His body was aching from their march so far, and the gentle swaying as he was carried set him back to a time when both of them had been younger, much more naive, not marked by what they had witnessed in their lives.

He closed his eyes. “Will you really be okay?”

“Rest,” Kuroo told him again, the low rumble of his voice a comfort for Kenma’s anxiety and nerves.

  


\---

  


“They must have made it to the shelter,” Tsukishima groaned when morning started to dawn. They were sitting in a circle, Kenma slumped against Kuroo. The fatigue had only intensified with the sun rising, a painful reminder that they hadn't gotten an inkling of sleep.

“It’s not that far anymore,” Kuroo tried, obviously shooting for bright optimism, but it came out drowsy and half-hearted. Kenma spared the energy to peek one eye open so he could level an unimpressed stare on Kuroo – Tsukishima did the same. Yamaguchi stared down at his hands in his lap and mumbled: “Uhm, are you … sure? ‘Cause I think … that's not …”

Kuroo barked a tired laugh. “Not so much optimism at once, guys. You’re overwhelming me.”

“But what if … wh-what if we’re not fast enough …?” Yamaguchi asked, putting into words what all of them were thinking. Kenma reached for Kuroo’s hand and laced his fingers with him, finding comfort in the touch.

“Don’t think like that,” Tsukishima said, sharply, catching Kenma by surprise. “You know how stubborn they all are. Hinata would annoy people to death before they could do much harm, Kageyama would tear out someone’s throat if they dared to touch any of them, Yachi could take on three guys at once. By the time we arrive they probably cleaned up already and invite us for food.” He took a deep breath, seemingly taken aback by his own rant. Shaking his head, he got up to his feet. “I’ll be back,” he told them, vanishing into the woods.

Yamaguchi stared after him, and Kenma didn’t miss the hope back alight in his eyes. All of them were feeling more energetic now, tearing into their food with new vigor.

“I can’t believe Tsukishima had to be our motivational force,” Kuroo said after a while, sounding so incredulous it made Yamaguchi burst into a peal of laughter, quickly hushing it behind his hand. Kuroo’s lip twitched up in response to that sound, and he seemed to sit a little straighter.

 _So obvious_ , Kenma thought, shaking his head lightly.

“Makes me want to kick his ass!” Kuroo proclaimed, even when he sounded entirely proud of Tsukishima.

“Watch it,” Tsukishima’s voice came from behind them. “You’ll only ruin your ridiculous hair even more.”

Kuroo’s mouth fell open and Kenma snorted. Yamaguchi failed at concealing his laugh as a cough.

“Is this the way you treat your teacher?! You have no respect for your elders, Tsukishima.”

“You make it sound like you’re a grandpa.” Tsukishima clicked his tongue, as if belatedly regretting to start this bickering. He put his hands on his hips, looking around. “I could keep going in case your joints don’t hurt too much, gramps.”

“Rude!” Kuroo exclaimed, starting to gather their proviant and stuffing it back into the bags, all while going on about lack of respect and the almost holy position of a teacher – generally a lot of useless babbling. Kenma exhaled, then pushed himself back up to his feet. Even with Kuroo’s help, the entire night had exhausted him and little breaks in between couldn't make up for sleep and exhaustion.

But this wasn’t about feeling tired, this was about some of their most important friends in danger.

There would be time to sleep and rest much later.

 _Hang in there, Hinata_ , he pleaded, staring up ahead at the path they would keep following. _We’re coming to help._

  


\---

  


They were forced to take another break when the sun was high in the sky, exhausted beyond belief. Kenma forced a bit of food down, then slumped back against Kuroo, eyes closed, trying to fight the lull of sleep tugging at him. He fell into a half-daze, still listening to what was happening around him, but almost-dreaming of changing colours and shapes, unmoving.

“You’re still hungry, right, Yamaguchi? Take the rest of mine.”

“N-no, it’s fine, really! Don’t worry about it! You should keep it for Kenma.”

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, and Yamaguchi made a surprised little noise. “Take some of mine, then. Don’t go hungry.”

“Ah, sorry, Tsukki! Thank you.”

Silence fell back over them, no longer a comfortable state, but feeling like a heavy weight which had settled over all of them. The longer they weren’t finding any hint of the lost Crows, the more the tension and their anxiety rose. Kuroo shifted slightly, wrapping an arm around Kenma to hold him a little closer, as if he had a feeling the support was welcome and needed at the moment. Kenma sighed, shifting to rest more comfortably.

He felt almost grateful for the fatigue slowing down his mind so he couldn’t conjure more gruesome images right now.

And then, they heard the first human sound since they had headed out.

The air around them seemed to electrify. Kenma’s eyes flew open, heart jumping painfully at how _close_ it had sounded. There was a strangled sound, a muffled scream from Yamaguchi. Kenma whirled around, a silent gasp falling from his lips as he watched Tsukishima being pulled back roughly, a blade at this throat.

Kuroo drew his sword, but Yamaguchi was faster. In a fluent movement, he drew his bow and pointed a nooked arrow straight at the attacker's forehead.

All of them froze.

Kuroo’s eyes darted over the attacker, Tsukishima in his grasp and Yamaguchi, holding his stance. There was nothing he could do, just like Kenma. They were rendered immobile by the threat against Tsukishima's life. Only Yamaguchi had balanced the scale with his reflexive move.

“Ah, Valentin,” Tsukishima breathed, and Kenma admired how remarkably he kept his composure despite the danger he was in. “I see you’re still the same old coward you used to be.”

Tsukishima suppressed a choked sound when Valentin yanked at him, cutting off his air for a second. “And I see you still haven’t learned to control that tongue of yours. We’re no longer soldiers – I can kill you now.”

“If you harm him,” Yamaguchi growled, and Kenma had never _heard_ him like this, would have never thought Yamaguchi to be capable of it. “You’ll follow a heartbeat later.”

The man smiled back at him, picture-perfect and bright. His face looked almost innocent, unsuspecting – but the grip on his knife was unwavering, merciless. It told the truth about his deceiving looks. “Wanna see if your arrow kills me faster than my knife kills him?”

Yamaguchi stayed quiet, his jaw muscles working in anger and frustration.

“What the fuck do you want, prettyboy?!” Kuroo hissed, his weapon still raised even when all of them were forced to stay frozen in place. An illusion of control when Kuroo could do nothing but watch Tsukishima at the mercy of an attacker.

“Oh, you stay quiet,” Valentin told him as if Kuroo was an annoying fly. “You can move along if you want, my business is only with these two.”

“Too bad their business is mine,” Kuroo growled, twitching where he stood, body high-strung with nerves.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said, voice low and soothing, reminding him to stay put no matter how much this situation riled him up. With Yamaguchi’s arrow, Tsukishima was safe, at least for the time being. Any rash decisions would tip the scales and put him into more danger.

“I see there’s still people pitying you enough to stick with you,” Valentin told Yamaguchi, his dimpled smile an astounding contrast to his cruel, calculated words. “Congratulations, I guess.”

Kuroo made a noise, his hand twitching on the blade, and Tsukishima looked as if he was contemplating whether ramming his elbow into Valentin’s stomach was worth the risk.

“Let him go,” Yamaguchi demanded. “Nobody has to get hurt.”

“Oh, Yamaguchi,” Valentin sighed, voice condescending. “But that’s not how revenge works.”

The second that word fell, Kenma could feel the tension skyrocket. That word, that _concept_ had cost them their home, had caused too many injuries, too much suffering, fear and almost _death_ for them to take it lightly. Yamaguchi inhaled sharply.

A tremor ran through Kuroo’s body, and something flashed in Tsukishima’s eyes that made Kenma fear the worst, as if he was ready to turn and try and end this _right now_ before anything worse could happen. Kenma only relaxed slightly when Tsukishima took a deep breath, that wild flash vanishing from his eyes. Even though he stood more rigid than before, he still stayed remarkably composed.

“Don’t do this,” Yamaguchi pleaded, his voice wavering even when his stance was brimming with strength, calmly keeping the arrow in its place no matter how exhausting that must have been. His body did not betray his exhaustion - not unless someone had an eye as keen as Kenma’s, who saw the first signs of it eat away at him. “Please.”

“Oh, Yamaguchi. It’s far too late for that.”

“It’s been _ages,”_ Yamaguchi replied, his voice getting away from him. “Why would you do this _now?”_

Ignoring his question, Valentin kept a sympathetic expression, almost friendly even when his words betrayed him once more. “How long can you keep that arrow up, I wonder? Just because you know how to handle a weapon doesn’t make you any less of a wimpy crybaby.”

“I’m not who I used to be,” Yamaguchi hissed, if anything, strengthening his stance. “I will keep this up as long as necessary.”

“Well, I’d sure love to see that,” Valentin replied, almost conversationally. “But I guess I’m missed already.”

Kenma froze, realising far too late that they had long missed their chance to act, any chance of it.

 _He’s not alone_ . _He’s_ not alone _!_

Kenma crouched down, drawing his knife seconds before they were rushed by a group of people. Kuroo jumped to protect Yamaguchi’s back as he was forced to unmovingly keep up Tsukishima’s lifeline. Kenma tried to fight his way towards them, to stand with them, but found his way cut off immediately.

Every fibre of his being protested against it, but he clutched the knife harder, squeezed his eyes shut and charged. It caught on something, the matching shout of pain all the confirmation he needed, but before he could even charge again, a harsh blow threw him to the ground.

He slammed into it, disoriented for a second, an attacker immediately over him and pushing his head down into the dirt. Kenma wanted to _scream_ , this entire situation far too familiar.

“Kenma!” he could hear Kuroo shout, the horrid similarity to _back then_ cracking his voice.

Torn between rushing towards him and protecting Yamaguchi, Kuroo was too distracted to withstand being attacked from two sides at once. Kenma struggled harder against the grip on him, bit into the hand keeping him down. He kicked out blindly, until he hit someone with a grunt. The grip on him eased. Shuddering, tasting bile on his tongue and nausea making his stomach drop, he struggled back to his feet.

With Kuroo out of the way, struggling to fight _three_ opponents, Yamaguchi’s back turned into a target. Kenma wanted to scream, to warn him, but there was no point – Yamaguchi was well aware of his situation, forced to keep his stance anyways to keep his best friend safe.

“No! _No! Let go, you bastards_ , I - !” Kuroo screamed and struggled, but kept taking punches, brought to his knees too soon. Evading someone else grabbing for him, Kenma pushed himself to his limits, rushing towards him. He'd lost his knife somewhere, but it didn't matter. With a muffled shout, he jumped at the attacker at Kuroo's back, bringing them down with him.

He didn't know how Kuroo was doing behind him. Too busy struggling against the much bigger fighter.

“Tsukki, Yamaguchi - _no -_!” Kuroo shouted, and Kenma got thrown back to the ground, coughing as pain flooded his body. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it – a woman yanked Yamaguchi back and away from Valentin. His arrow fired into the ground next to Valentin, useless.

The woman threw Yamaguchi to the ground, keeping him there with his arms twisted behind his back. Yamaguchi screamed and shouted. He fought and fought, only provoking more brutality in being held down. Kenma tried to bite and kick, and Kuroo was simply screaming and raging until someone shoved some kind of cloth into his mouth.

“No! _No!”_ Yamaguchi's voice broke.

A cruel smile adorned Valentin’s face when his hand moved -

“Valentin!”

The booming voice was enough to freeze the man in place. “What are you _doing.”_

“I -” he began, trying to explain himself and failing. Suddenly, he looked like a dog caught disobeying orders. Whatever was going on, the man walking up to them held clear authority over him and seemed more than unpleased with his actions. Kenma allowed himself a soft sigh of relief. Each second passing without harm to Tsukishima gave them more opportunity to find _some_ kind of way to keep him alive. To get out of this somehow.

His joints hurt where his arms were twisted back, the touch burning his skin. Each breath was a struggle to keep it together. How on earth were they supposed to get out of this?

“Going off on your own without telling us you found more people? You’re young, you’re determined but you’re also reckless and stupid.” The tension from before seemed to ease - even when they were restrained and captured, it wasn’t mortal danger anymore. As long as all of them were still breathing … and Kenma forced himself to, in and out. As deeply as he could.

“They’re all captured already. Get that knife away, I don’t want you hurting our goods. You’ll get punished later, and next time you pull a one-man show I’ll kick you out, you hear me? Don’t make me lose more people.” The man turned, barking at the others: “Tie them up and bring them to our base.”

He turned and left.

And Kenma felt numb.

Goods.

He’d called them goods.

Slave traders.

They’d fallen into the hands of slave traders.

“Kenma,” Kuroo choked out, despite his split lip and the blood on his teeth. “Breathe. Look into my eyes, breathe. _Kenma.”_

But Kenma was dying, he couldn’t _breathe._ He tried to concentrate on Kuroo’s eyes but it didn’t _help_ , not with the hands holding him down and his wrists and ankles _burning_ with the weight of _shackles._

“Kenma - !”

The world went black.

  


\---

  


There was a ringing in his ears when he came to, and his wrists were tied behind his back. Kenma’s heart kept racing as if he had never stopped being terrified, even unconscious.

“Kenma,” Kuroo’s voice came immediately. “Breathe with me. Look at me. You’re okay. It’s fine. We’re all alive, and as long as we are, we’ll find a way out. You hear me? As long as we're still breathing, we will figure this out. You’re not alone. Keep breathing. Yeah, that’s good. That’s good. You’re good, you’re okay. I'm here. Keep breathing.”

He kept going like this, patiently talking him through it until the air Kenma breathed finally felt like it was reaching his lungs again and the prickling in his fingers and toes and cheeks subsided gradually. Kenma leaned his aching head back against the bark of the tree, keeping his eyes closed, exhausted down to his bones. A lazy, terrified part of him wished he could simply pass out again.

A much bigger part demanded for him to come up with a valid plan.

He opened his eyes again, forcing himself to check first whether Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were alright and nearby, completely taken aback when his gaze met familiar, brown eyes. Wide, red-rimmed, but very much alive.

“Kenma,” Hinata mumbled, almost seemed to stumble over his words. “Are you okay?”

If anything, Kenma wanted to ask _him_ that question. What in the ever loving hell had happened Hinata to transform him into such a _shell_ of his former self within a day? He looked wrecked, pale as if grave sickness had taken hold of him, the bruises on his skin looking more unhealthy in the stark contrast to his skin. His hair was in utter disarray - but the worst were his eyes - wild, terrified, holding destructive energy, like he was a caged animal. Kenma’s heart ached looking at his friend.

“I’m okay. What -” He’d wanted to ask what had happened, when he caught sight of Yachi. She sat with her knees drawn up as far as she could, barely peeking over them at him, trying to hide away and yet unable to not check whether Kenma was really okay. Sweetheart Yachi. He barely saw her face, but she looked just as tortured, just as beaten and tired and lost as Hinata.

Kenma’s eyes kept searching. Yamaguchi sat with his head bowed, not meeting his eyes. Tsukishima met his gaze, his face not betraying anything he might have felt.

All of them were tied up, close but not close enough to help each other escape.

But the worst part – what really made his stomach drop – was that Kenma could not see Kiyoko or Kageyama anywhere.

 _Goods_ rang in his ears again. _Don’t damage our goods._

They’d already been taken. His stomach lurched, and Kenma barely fought the urge to vomit, forcing himself into counting steadily up to 20 before he felt enough in control to open his eyes and deal with their situation.

When he looked back up, Yamaguchi was gritting his teeth, face distorted in his struggle to keep it together. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

Kenma, Tsukishima, even Hinata opened their mouths to protest. Kuroo was the fastest. “What the fuck are you talking about? Failed us? Without you, we’d have lost Tsukki to that bastard. You were exceptional, nothing less.”

Yamaguchi shook his head, tears spilling from his eyes. “Without me, they wouldn’t have captured us - if I hadn’t - if I hadn’t done what I did back then -”

“Don’t waste your time with useless bullshit,” Tsukishima snapped, biting his lip when Yamaguchi flinched from the sharpness in his voice. He struggled to keep his voice softer when he kept going: “I’m only still alive thanks to you. We should’ve paid more attention, then none of us would be here. Blame doesn’t help us at all. This is our situation and we’ll deal with it. Besides, fuck Valentin. If it's anyone's fault, then it's his.”

“No,” Hinata hissed, eyes burning. He stared at the ground blankly, his eyes wide, face hard. “It's my fault, for being weak. This is all my fault.”

Hinata looked so far gone, unreachable. That wildness in his eyes seemed to have grasped his whole body, and looking at him, all words failed Kenma. He didn't know what to do, how to fix this. How to deal with this Hinata.

What kind of friend was Kenma?

“Don’t say that,” Yachi demanded. She stretched out her legs and raised her chin, and Kenma was taken aback by how calm and confident she seemed, how sure her voice sounded. He wouldn’t have expected it. “They used backhanded tricks on us. You’re not at fault and Tsukishima is right. Blame won’t help with bringing -” She faltered, swallowing whatever she had been about to say, before she cautiously ended with: “Won’t help us in going home.”

“There’s no home without him,” Hinata choked out. Kenma could feel his heart break for his friend, because hadn’t he felt the same back when he had lost Kuroo?

_There’s no home without him._

“I know,” Yachi replied, unflinching. “Obviously we’ll bring them back. But we have to get free first.”

“She’s right,” Kuroo said. His voice was tinged with his authority as a leader. “So all of you, stop with useless blame and guilt. We’ve survived much worse. Hope’s not lost, nothing is lost yet.”

Hinata did not move, did not reply. But Yachi’s face set in determination, and Yamaguchi raised his head again, still sniffling but struggling to get his composure back. Tsukishima gave the hint of a nod, approval clear enough. Kenma forced himself to breathe. They would get through this somehow. It wasn’t like back then - Kuroo was still at his side, and so were many other friends he had found since then. They wouldn’t get separated, they wouldn’t actually get sold.

 _I won’t go through this again. I’d rather die._ And that was the one thing he’d promised Kuroo to fend off until they were old and grey and too fragile to still live out in the forest. So, no option there. Besides, he wouldn't let any of his friends suffer the same fate.

“You guys seem awfully confident considering you’re bound and helpless,” came a now familiar voice, making all of them bristle. Kuroo’s glare aimed at Valentin should have made him burst into flames. “Fuck off, you bastard.”

Yamaguchi had lowered his head again, and it had escaped none of them.

“This isn’t really what I wanted to happen to you, but it still serves you right,” Valentin told him, and his casual smile while _saying_ things as vile as this made Kenma want to watch Kuroo go beat him up. Without backhanded maneuvers and the element of surprise he wouldn’t stand a chance. The mental image was quite satisfying.

“Big words for someone who almost got kicked out just now.” Kenma didn’t know where his sharp words had come from, only that he had been forced to watch literally everyone here suffer at the hands of these rotten people. The man’s gaze narrowed in on him, and Kenma felt a shudder down his spine with the sinking realisation that this had been a mistake.

“ _You_ should stay quiet,” Valentin hissed, striding over to him. Kuroo threw himself against his ropes as if it could help _anything_ . “You should be _begging_ for my mercy.”

Kenma raised his chin, holding his gaze, unwavering. How often had he heard those words? How often had he been treated like lesser by people who had beaten him down? But here he was, with his pride, burning with the knowledge that he wasn’t _lesser_ than _anyone_ in this world. Least than a person as cowardly, as undeserving of respect as this man.

“You don’t deserve my respect. I will not bow to you.”

The slap threw his head to the side, made his cheek burn with pain. And yet Kenma preferred this to giving in, would rather suffer with his head held high than lose respect for himself if he did cave in.

“Touch him again and it’s the last thing you do,” Kuroo hissed, furious. “You will _regret_ this. I will _end_ you.”

“ _You?_ End me? That’s adorable. You can’t even move. Look at you. I’m the powerful one here.”

“You don’t have an ounce of power or pride,” Tsukishima spat. “You’re pathetic.”

Valentin brought his attention to Tsukishima now, narrowing his eyes at him.

But before anyone else could protest, another voice rose above all of them. “Enough. Leave them be. It’s me you want to suffer, isn’t it?” Yamaguchi stared at Valentin, chin raised in defiance. “Beat _me_ up if you want to so bad.”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima hissed, his voice uncharacteristically heated. Yamaguchi did not apologise like usual - he stayed quiet, kept his head up. Offered himself up.

“How does it feel, having so little self esteem you have to get off on beating down others,” Kenma hissed, quickly, trying to get the attention off Yamaguchi before he could get attacked.

“I will beat you up until you cry and beg for your momma to save you,” Kuroo spat.

“I already did beat you up,” Yachi shouted, literally shouted, making everyone flinch with the realisation that she _could_ be this loud. “And I’ll do it again!”

Hinata raised his head, and goosebumps rose on Kenma’s skin when he saw his eyes _burn,_ burn with an intensity Kenma had seen rarely, and never in this context, never with so much momentum behind it, never so _dangerous._ “You deserve all bad things coming to you.” The only comfort was that Valentin seemed even more terrified than everyone else looking at Hinata. “You will suffer for what you did. Us crows will chew you up and spit you back out.” His eyes widened, intensity unwavering, and another shiver ran down Kenma’s spine. “You will regret the day you messed with us and took my friends away until the end of your sorry little life.”

Valentin took a step back, almost stumbling over his own feet, barely catching his fall before he turned and _fled_. Kenma didn’t feel triumphant for long - he felt relieved that nobody else would get hurt, but his stomach turned to knots when he saw Hinata’s gaze boring into the retreating man’s back. He’d known that Hinata could get intense, but not like this.

 _We need to get out of here soon,_ he thought, urgently. _Before this changes him for good. Before this breaks him._

Kenma took a deep breath, focusing.

_I won’t let more harm come to him. Or anyone else. I’ll get us out of here._

But he couldn’t help but think that for that, they’d need a miracle.

Though, for Hinata, Kenma would create one himself if he had to. For everyone here with him.

He owed them that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's ... five a.m. and I need sleep like nobody's business BUT!! I need to take some time here. I don't think I stress enough what your feedback and support means to me. Without you guys, I wouldn't be where I am right now. I know I'm horrible at keeping up with replys, and while I'll still try to do better in the future - please know I treasure any and all of your responses <3 You always make me smile and work harder, and I'm incredibly grateful for that. Thanks for being so amazing, guys. I love you ♥
> 
> Also just so you know NEXT CHAPTER IS GOING TO BE GREAT GET READY TO GET REKT. See you in a week \\(☆O☆)/


	5. Can't hold us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hinata doesn't believe in miracles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gently places this super amazing [Kageyama](http://inkcaviness.tumblr.com/post/128866036633/this-started-out-as-a-drawing-of-kageyama-from) here, please admire him *^*
> 
> Now let's kickstart this chapter!! Weekly updates feel so good, waah! ~

Their first plan failed.

So did the second.

The third.

Their captors dragged Kenma away from the group roughly after that, tying him up isolated, out of sight. Ever since, Kuroo had not been doing well, crumbling and crumbling as a pillar of strength for them. Not even Tsukishima could calm him down, even though he tried. He tried his hardest. Both him and Yachi were the ones who tried to keep their cool, or at least their optimism.

Hinata didn’t care.

He couldn’t find it in himself to.

Each heartbeat more brought Kageyama and Kiyoko further away from them. Each second wasted sealed their fate. Maybe tonight, it’d happen again. They’d take Kenma away from them first. Maybe Yachi, too. Maybe everyone he cared about until Hinata would be left to starve tied to a tree, and didn’t he deserve it? This was all his fault.

Only a miracle could save them now, and miracles didn’t exist. Not in a world that kept ripping what he held dear from him.

By now, that lesson had been beaten into his skin enough.

The never ending string of Tsukishima's hushed words to Kuroo suddenly cut off. The low murmur in the distance, of people (monsters, _monsters)_ eating and laughing around the fire, too.

Hinata lifted his face from his knees, joints and muscles aching from keeping that position for so long. He valued the comfort of a hidden face more than avoiding the pain, felt almost naked now when he blinked into the light.

As his eyes adjusted, his breath hitched in his throat.

A man had walked right into the middle of the clearing where those people had set up camp. He seemed small, not muscular and dangerous enough for his stance and the balled fists at his sides. His voice carried across the clearing. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here!”

The stunned silence of the people around the fire dissolved into laughter.

Undeterred, the strange man made his way past the fire, walking towards where they had dragged Kenma earlier. The baffled group so far did not make a move to stop him, and he kept spitting and cursing. “People like you make me sick!”

Was he trying to free Kenma?

But the hopeful beat of Hinata's heart stuttered and stumbled, stopped. One tiny guy couldn’t stand against all of these people with their dirty moves. In a second, he’d join them in their misery.

No miracles.

Hinata wanted to scream at him to run.

A woman got up, one Hinata knew was devious in a fight, he'd _witnessed_ her. A part of him longed to squeeze his eyes shut, because Hinata couldn’t watch this, watch the determined man be beaten down, too.

But maybe he had turned into his own enemy now – he simply couldn't avoid his gaze.

The man turned around to face the woman, light on her feet and clearly self-assured – she had every right to be. Without hesitation, she lifted her arm and swung.

The man did not dodge.

He _flew._

Hinata’s mouth fell open. It happened so fast, the man twisted his body out of the way, his legs in the air, landing behind the woman with cat-like grace, as if the maneuver had not cost him energy or concentration. Bouncing lightly on his feet he dodged the next attack with as much ease, whirling and spinning and it seemed to come like _breathing_ to him. By the time he’d brought the woman to the ground, had he even broken a sweat?

Hinata's heart was racing, soaring. Who on earth was that man?!

But by now, the rest of the group had realised that he _did_ pose a threat. Five of them were ready to gang up on him, and not even a fighter who seemed to defy gravity would be able to stand a chance against them.

“If you think you can touch him, you’re dead wrong!”

The voice boomed so loudly it filled the entire clearing. Hinata’s head whirled around so fast his neck ached. Another man stood at the edge of the clearing, his hands on his hips in a posture which oozed confidence and strength, a wide grin on his face. His hair alone looked intimidating, streaks of white a stark contrast against black. Even his eyebrows gave him a wilder look.

And behind him, there were _more_ people. And every single one of them looked intimidating in their own right.

 _A miracle_ , Hinata thought. _The miracle came._

He leaned forward, the ropes digging into his wrists. Wincing, eyes wide, he drank the scene before him in.

“Let’s go show ‘em what we’re made of!” the man with the wild hair shouted, raising his fist into the air and charging with an even wider grin on his face.

“No fucking way,” Kuroo gasped. He sounded so taken aback Hinata was almost tempted to look at him, but found he couldn't take his eyes off the fight unravelling before him.

The newcomers rushed in, their leader cheering and hollering loud enough for the entire group, who didn't seem up to as much noise.

The group descended upon their captors like a swarm of predators, fanning out as the bandits fell in disarray, finally realising, too, that they were probably doomed.

Several wide strides before the leader reached the attackers ganging up on the first fighter, he kicked himself off the ground, meeting two of the attackers with his feet to their faces. _Flying,_ again.

He landed, just as effortlessly as the first fighter.

“Komi, you alright?!” It probably wasn’t meant to be screaming, but the entire clearing could hear that one man.

“Yeah!” came Komi's reply, just as loud.

“Great, let’s go!” The man crouched down slightly, and without hesitation Komi sprinted towards him, jumping up and into his waiting hands. A second later, he was elevated into the air, flying in a wide arc and coming down on the back of another attacker, knocking him into the ground.

Hinata jerked in place, his heart racing. This was the most incredible thing he’d ever _seen_ , and not just Komi and the leading man were a sight to behold. Wherever he looked he saw something that made him gasp. A girl with blond hair swinging behind her jumped right into an attacker’s _face_ , wrapping her thighs around him and twisting him into the floor so hard it left him unconscious. She easily high fived another girl in passing before both flung themselves into another fight. Literally.

 _Everyone_ was twisting, turning, _flying._ Some less flashy than others, but all of them did not leave the inkling of a _chance_ to the people who had tortured them for so long, kept them tied up and helpless.

 _A miracle,_ Hinata thought again, breathless. _They’re a miracle._

The leading man, the one who drew the most attention to him and kept yelling and cheering at everyone jumped into one maneuver after the next with people, lifting them into the air, twisting with and around them to bring defeat within a heartbeat.

“Bokuto!” Komi shouted, sprinting towards him again, and with loud laughter, the leader picked him up under his armpits, whirling him around to kick two people before letting go, sending him spiralling feet first into yet another person, who barely twisted out of the way.

“Holy crap!” the one forced to dodge cursed. An _ally,_ not an attacker. Behind him, Komi caught himself on his hands and twisted back to his feet.

“Sorry, Konoha!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Bokuto called over, looking like someone had dumped a bucket of water over him.

“Behind you!” Konoha shouted back, and Hinata’s gaze flung around to see an attacker behind Bokuto, knife raised and temple bleeding. Before Bokuto could even twist around to protect himself, the knife was flying out of the woman’s hand. Someone else had disarmed her, his movements calm, not a single one wasted. Reminded Hinata of Yachi's fighting style.

It took the man seconds to bring the attacker down, his whispered words lost to Hinata’s ears, but Hinata could see his lips moving and the woman’s eyes widening in response. She struggled backwards, clumsily got to her feet and made a break for it.

“Akaashi! Where would I be without you!” Bokuto proclaimed, throwing his arms out.

“Probably dead.”

Laughing, Bokuto leaned in for a quick, open-mouthed kiss which completely took Hinata off guard after the intensity of the fight. The fight which wasn’t _over_ , the girls were still teaming up on three fighters unwilling to give up, but even two on three, it felt like watching a bunny challenge a wolf.

A second later, Bokuto whirled back around, still all intensity. “Komi! Again?!”

“Hell yeah!” Komi shouted back.

“Hell _no_ ,” Konoha replied, getting out of reach of the duo to join the girls. Akaashi shook his head, calmly keeping another attacker from even trying to get close to Bokuto and Komi.

The fight ended as quickly as it had begun, with the criminals stumbling over their own feet in their flight.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Bokuto shouted after them, causing them to flinch and run faster. “Get the fuck out of here! Pray that we never see you again! Next time we won’t be this nice!” He took a deep gulp, ready to scream more, real anger making it sound even more intimidating. Then, the one named Konoha reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. Bokuto closed his mouth, going quiet. Konoha pointed his chin to where Hinata and the otherswere still sitting, tied up.

Bokuto exhaled, nodded, and jogged out of sight.

The rest of the group made their way over, and Hinata was almost bouncing where he sat when Komi came over to him. His blood was still rushing in his ears, as if _he’d_ been the one in the fight.

“That was! The coolest thing I’ve ever seen!” Hinata gasped before Komi could get a word in, who broke into a proud and pleased grin at his words.

“Thanks a lot! Bokuto’s really cool, right?!”

“You too!” Hinata exclaimed, leaning forwards so Komi could get him free more easily. “How did you _do_ that?!”

“Lotsa training!” Komi opened the ropes, leaving Hinata free to finally move his arms again, dragging them into his lap as he watched Komi point to where there was a tooth missing in his wide smile. “Sometimes I hit a wall. Literally!” His nose seemed slightly crooked, too. Hinata couldn’t help but smile back, still completely awed.

Then, Komi’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve been through hell. It’s all going to be fine now. They won’t harm you anymore.”

Hinata’s eyes widened, realisation hitting him like a punch to the gut. He flung himself forward, trying to grasp Komi’s collar in his desperation, his hands too numb to comply with him. Komi made a tiny noise of surprise, eyes wide and bewildered. “Please! You have to help me! They took my – … our – friends, they – !”

Before Komi could answer, someone knocked into Hinata from the side. “Hinata,” Yachi gasped, wrapping her arms around him in a hug so tight it was almost painful. They shuffled, easing into a proper hug. Her hair tickled his nose, and his sister's warmth in his arms eased the choked up panic in his throat. Heart thundering, Hinata found the comfort he needed to even his breathing. He squeezed his eyes shut, tightened his grip on Yachi as hers tightened on him.

“Everything is going to be alright now,” Komi repeated. He sounded a little helpless, utterly earnest. “We’re here to help.”

“Kenma!” Hinata could see Kuroo struggle to his feet, stumbling forwards to embrace his friend. Kenma looked ragged, but not worse than he had before those people had taken him from them. Hinata felt a surge of relief as he saw him wrap his arms around Kuroo and bury his face at his chest. Yachi eventually pulled back from the embrace, hurrying towards Yamaguchi, too, falling back on her knees and crawling the last two steps so she could hug him tightly.

Tsukishima sat close, and looked only the slightest bit disgruntled when Yachi made her embrace a group hug.

Hinata sat, alone and breathing heavily. Only the fact that Komi was still there, looking at him like he was something … fragile which could snap at any time forced Hinata to pull himself together and stay composed.

Then Kuroo started shouting. Startled, Hinata whipped around, expecting another attack –

but he was just excitedly yelling at the leader. “Bo! I can’t fucking believe you’re still alive! You bastard, I fucking missed you!”

“You made it!” Bokuto shouted back, just as loudly. “You fucking made it! C’mere!” They hugged, patting each others backs with so much force Hinata’s back hurt just looking at it.

“Lookin’ good, lookin’ good!”

“And you got your Kenma back! See, told ya! Told ya it'd all turn out fine!”

Kuroo pulled back, sending a fond smile Kenma’s way. He extended his hand in a little offer, and Kenma took it, laced their fingers as his amber eyes met Bokuto's gaze. Kuroo's gaze lingered on Kenma's face when he muttered: “Yeah, I found him again. Kenma, that’s Bokuto. Bokuto, Kenma.”

“Woah!” Komi jumped up to his feet. “ _The_ Kuroo you told us about?!”

“In the flesh!” Bokuto proclaimed, pulling Kuroo into yet another hug and back-patting session, which caused Kenma to disentangle his hand quickly and duck away from the excited lot. Instead, he stumbled towards Hinata, who couldn't do more than extent his arms as Kenma tumbled into him.

“You're alright,” Kenma mumbled, and Hinata wrapped his arms around him and took a deep breath. Was he alright?

“Kageyama is gone,” Hinata mumbled back, feeling helpless and broken, like a child asking for help. “He's gone, Kenma.”

“We'll get him back,” Kenma promised. He pulled back, and the conviction in his eyes burned strong enough to keep the spark of hope in Hinata's heart alive. “I promise you that much. We'll fix it all, I won't leave him or Kiyoko to the hands of those –“

He took a shuddering breath. Hinata did not know much about what had happened, in Kenma's past, but the way he trembled, closed his eyes against what was probably memories – the way he spoke of it …

“No matter what,” Kenma said, his voice hard.

Hinata nodded. “No matter what.”

\---

 

“We have to return to camp first.”

They’d all settled down, soothing salve and bandages around their wrists taking away the sting of the pain, but Hinata was too agitated to appreciate it. Yachi and Kenma were resting their hands on his shoulders, trying to soothe him, but it didn’t _matter._ Kuroo was _wrong._

“If we waste time on going back now we’ll lose track completely, we’ll _never_ find them!” he argued, gesturing wildly. How could nobody see that he was right?!

But Kuroo was unrelenting. “I promised Daichi to bring his kids back. He needs to knowwhat happened to the two of them.”

“Well how about _you_ go back then! And we can get moving and actually do something to _help!”_ His voice almost broke from the exertion.

“Hinata!” Yachi chided, or maybe just pleaded.

“I’m right!” he snapped back. Why were they still sitting around now that they were free? He could take Meatball and go _find_ Kageyama and Kiyoko. It didn’t have to be such a big deal.

“I won’t let you run off on your own when you’re like this,” Kuroo said, and it only made Hinata more angry, how damn _calm_ Kuroo was. “I’ve lost my most important person before. I know how that wrecks you, fucks with your head. Right now you’d make idiotic decisions which would get yourself hurt or worse, and I won’t stand for it.”

Hinata looked around to his friends for any kind of help. Yachi averted her gaze, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi nodding slightly. At Kuroo's words, not his. Kenma’s gaze seemed to bear into him, pleading for him to see reason. Hinata wanted to _scream_.

“What about you, Yachi?! You can’t be okay with this!”

She still wouldn’t meet his gaze, letting her hair fall into her face to hide it from view. “... I don't think we can do this without the rest of our family. We … we should … go back.”

“Do you even care what could have happened to them until now?! What might be happening to them the longer we wait?! What might be happening _right now!”_

Hinata regret his words the second he closed his mouth, flinching because it was Yamaguchi, of all people, to tell him: “That’s enough!”

Yamaguchi seemed to draw in on himself a little again, but kept going without fail, trying to keep his voice even. There was pain written over his features – pain that probably was nothing compared to the hurt expression Yachi was hiding behind her hair. “She’s suffering just as much as you! It’s enough, Hinata. We should listen to Kuroo.”

Hinata bowed his head, shame crashing over his head like a wave, pushing him under. “I’m sorry, Yachi.”

“It’s fine,” she replied, but her voice sounded thin and he still couldn’t see her face, only her trembling hands. He’d really, really fucked up. Hinata bit his lip. “I, that was – I didn't mean it, I know you're just as – I'm so sorry - …”

She still wouldn’t meet his gaze, but her hand found his, and Hinata laced his fingers with hers. The guilt and shame of snapping at her like that still burned, but he was grateful for the contact. They'd be okay, even after Hinata had gone ahead and … and hurt her.

Hurt her even when Yachi was hurting already, just as badly as him.

It was Kuroo who broke the silence which had fallen. “We’re going back to Karasuno to decide together how we proceed from here. That’s an order.”

Hinata didn't protest, couldn't find the strength to. All fight had left him, with the horrible realisation. Maybe … maybe Kuroo had been right. Only Hinata's idiotic decisions hadn't hurt him, but Yachi.

The fire painted dancing shadows on Kuroo’s face, the set of his jaw, his determination clear. There was no anger in his voice, only certainty. And Hinata listened. “I speak in everyone’s best interest. I speak for Daichi, and I speak as a person with more experience than you. Not because of a fancy title. Because I _know_ , Hinata. And I’m asking you to trust me on this. We’ll do anything we have to to bring them home.”

Yachi squeezed his hand. Hinata didn’t dare meet anyone’s eyes. “Yes,” he agreed, voice suddenly silent, and everyone around breathed a sigh of relief.

Fukurodani had definitely waited for them to work this out first, because the second the tension was resolved, they returned, a loud bunch bringing them food and drink and distractions. Komi plopped down in front of Hinata, offering Yachi, Kenma and him dried meat, bread and berries. “You’ll feel a lot better once you’ve eaten!”

Stomach growling, Hinata stuffed his cheeks at last, enjoying the taste for a second before his thoughts spiralled – wandered. Had Kageyama even gotten food?

He was probably hungry. Hungry and lost and beaten and cold. And scared.

That thought hurt the worst. Kageyama shouldn’t be scared, not ever again. That was all Hinata had wanted – to keep him smiling and pouting and pulling all his ridiculous expressions, as long as the light in his eyes would stay. As long as he'd never go back to those dark times when they had met, and now – now –

Hinata felt sick, all of a sudden, the food on his tongue unbearable and he missed Kageyama with an intensity that felt like a punch to the gut which had knocked the breath out of him.

“Hey, hey, hey!” That loud voice pulled Hinata from his thoughts, and when he realised Bokuto’s gaze was directed at him, he couldn’t look away from the intensity in those eyes. What an incredible person. Bokuto was even more intimidating and amazing up close.

“You’re that kid who got all excited over Komi before, right?!”

Hinata nodded, chewing more quickly so he could swallow and reply properly. But that wasn’t necessary, apparently, because the nodding was all Bokuto had needed. “Then watch, I’ll show you something cool!”

“Bokuto,” Akaashi said, only one word. Konoha shook his head.

“Watch and learn!”

“He couldn’t even -” Akaashi began, giving up when Bokuto broke into a sprint without listening. Akaashi sighed, and Hinata got half up to his feet so he could keep his gaze on Bokuto, confused and then mildly alarmed as the man was heading straight towards a large tree. With a whoop, he jumped up, touching the bark with his foot and flinging himself back in a salto. He landed perfectly on his feet, spreading his arms and turning around to his audience. “Did ya see that?! Did ya?!”

“Don’t choke,” Tsukishima told Hinata, and Yachi was busy patting his back. In his excitement he’d breathed in some crumbs.

“S-so cool!” he choked out at last. “Can you teach me?! I wanna know how to do that! I wanna fly, too!”

“Fly!” Bokuto gasped, clutching his chest. “Did ya hear that?! He wants to fly, too!”

That was when Komi got up to his feet, eyes glinting. “Hinata! You wanna see something really cool?!”

Hinata clapped his hands together, getting up to his feet in his excitement. “Yes! Yes!”

Komi shot him another grin. “Look at this!”

Just like Bokuto before, he took off running, but towards the grass and earth instead of the trees. Reaching his hands over his head, he dropped right into a series of quick backflips, twisting in the air, before he jumped high up and spiralled backwards into a double salto. He landed swiftly, extending his arms. At that point Hinata was reduced to nothing excited noises and clapping.

“So cool! You’re so cool!”

Komi came over, rubbing his palms together to get the dirt off, showing his tooth gap.

“Well, watch _this!”_ Bokuto called, jumping into the exact same string of exercises, only that he came up too short on the last salto, landing far too harshly on his feet and toppling backwards onto the grass. The people around the fire broke into laughter, and he kept lying there on his back. Hinata couldn't really make out his muffled voice, but he was pretty sure there was something like 'leave me here to die' somewhere in there. In the end, Konoha got up to his feet with a resigned sigh and walked over, crouching down next to him.

Komi laughed, patting Hinata's shoulder as he looked over to the two, worried. “Nothing to worry about! He just gets like that sometimes.”

The rest of Fukurodani nodded along, actually looking like they had been through this a million times. A little more relieved, Hinata sat back down, but the slight edge only left him when Konoha led Bokuto back to the group.

“Ugh, I suck,” Bokuto groaned, plopping back on the ground. As if on cue, everyone in Fukurodani broke into a reassuring chorus about how amazing he really was, Washio offered him some more food, and the round went on and on until Bokuto sat straight and proud again, telling Hinata all the stories he wanted to hear, Kuroo occasionally joining in to talk about their early days and idiotic ways to get scars and on the bad side of the soldiers.

Hinata wouldn’t have expected to laugh at all this evening, or too feel tired. It was honestly incredible, how somehow, despite the pain and loss they had suffered, these people could distract him and keep him … sane.

He fell asleep curled into Yachi, the other Cats and Crows sprawled around them.

 

\---

 

The night was warm, peaceful. Gentle for spring, as if nature was trying to amend for what had been done to them. Kuroo's body felt tired, but buzzing thoughts, doubts – but also the excitement which hadn’t subsided the least kept him awake despite the exhaustion of the last day.

“I honestly can’t believe you’re here,” he sighed.

Next to Kuroo, even Bokuto was quiet, both because their friends fell asleep already, and because the quiet of the night had settled over their skins and soothed the boundless joy over their reunion to simple contentment.

“Me neither,” Bokuto replied, bracing himself on his arms behind him, looking at Kuroo out of the corner of his eyes. It was hard to make each other out in the light of the lantern, but they were still trying to sneak as many glances as possible. Trying to match the face of the man in front of them to a boy they used to know.

Mostly, Kuroo was trying to catalogue each new scar and Boktuo's unfathomable black and white hairstyle. It was bizzare, and kind of brilliant in that. It suited him.

“Love the hair,” Kuroo said, because he’d like to stick to his policy of telling Bokuto anything good that came to mind about him. That outburst of dejection earlier had been just like Kuroo remembered from a long while ago. Bokuto's self-esteem had always been like a phoenix, burning brightly, then to ashes, only to be reborn after in an endless cycle. For some reason, after having seen that it was still the same old, Kuroo had started feeling like whatever distance time had put between them could be breached again.

That he’d won a friend again.

It made him wonder if maybe, not all was lost like he’d thought. He’d found Kenma again. Now Bokuto. Maybe, eventually, he’d meet Oikawa again. Maybe next time insane slave traders tied them up and planned to sell them off, Oikawa would come to his rescue.

Kuroo chuckled. What the hell was he even thinking?

“Yours hasn’t changed at all,” Bokuto replied light-heartedly, pulling Kuroo from his thoughts.

“Good things don’t need fixing.”

“True that.”

“A lot of other things changed, though,” Kuroo mused.

Bokuto sighed, sounding a little too wistful for the Bokuto Kuroo used to know. He wondered what his friend thought of him now, which changes he could see.

“Tons of other things. The soldiers didn’t get you, back then, did they?”

“No, they didn’t,” Kuroo replied. He’d been lucky. “But they got you. I honestly thought I’d never see you again.”

“It’s fine, I got out after a while. I mean, until they locked me back up. I’d still be rotting in my cell, I guess, if it hadn’t been for my owls.”

Kuroo took a second to decide whether he should ask Bokuto how on earth he had managed to get himself imprisoned _again_ or the fact that he referred to a group of terrifying, kickass fighters as ‘his owls’. The more important thing won out in the end.

“ _Your owls?!”_

“Shut up,” Bokuto hissed, suddenly flustered. “Don’t tell ‘em I called them that again.”

Again. All the agains. Bokuto wasn’t the kind of person to make the same mistake only once. That much hadn’t changed, either.

“It’s just - we’re silent and cool like owls in the night! It’s cool imagery, okay! I don’t know why nobody likes it!”

It hadn’t been the Owls that made Kuroo grin. Their forest wasn’t one to talk, with their Cats and Crows. Just the fact with how much ease Bokuto talked about these people as _his_ \- it was clear he’d found a home in them like Kuroo had found in Nekoma.

“I’m happy for you.”

“Where’d that come from?” Bokuto asked, hands frozen in the air before him after his gestures and rant about owls had been cut off.

Kuroo shrugged. “They’re important to you. I’ve seen you all fight together - this amount of synch doesn’t come from nothing. I mean, okay, granted you almost killed one of your fighters by throwing that short guy into his face -”

“That was like _one_ ti -” Bokuto hesitated, then quickly added: “It doesn’t happen _that_ often!”

Kuroo snorted. “Wow, Bo. Seriously?!”

“I haven’t been doing all this for as long as they have,” Bokuto said. “Sometimes I mess up. Or maybe more times. But they still all support me. They’re really great people.” His smile was so wide and genuine, Kuroo’s heart skipped a beat with joy. Bokuto had found a home just like him. He deserved it. “What about these kids you’re here with? They your family?”

Kuroo suddenly found himself slightly overwhelmed with explaining what they were to him. “Uh, kind of. Most of them are friends. I taught the cheeky blond one how to sword fight, I’m his mentor. Kenma is … Kenma.”

“Your home, huh? Still?”

“Still,” Kuroo replied, an answer that didn't need thinking.

Bokuto smiled. “That’s nice. What about the rest of them?”

“Well … they’re Daichi’s kids. Daichi is, like.” Kuroo started gesturing, trying to find some way to describe their bond. “I was best man at his wedding, okay? And I promised to bring them home. All of them. And now Kageyama and Kiyoko are missing, and they’re Hinata’s and Yachi’s partners so they’re heartbroken - especially Hinata is taking it badly. And I don’t know, it’s like I’m failing my best friend in the most important promise I ever made.”

Kuroo stopped himself there, realising he’d been ranting and probably dragged the mood down. But there was far too much on his chest and it had felt good to voice it. Bokuto wouldn’t really judge him for that.

“Hinata, huh?” Bokuto sounded a little wistful, and definitely like he was plotting something. “He did ask me to teach him! Maybe I could show him some tricks, get his mind off things.” He shrugged. “Not sure how I’d help the girl? But if you think of anything, tell me! Hey, maybe I could ask Yukie and Kaori to take care of her a little! We’ll escort you back to your home - I _gotta_ see that treehouse, okay - and …” He trailed off. “I wish we could help you in your search, but there’s places we have to be. I wish there was a way …”

“Bo. Can you turn around to me.”

“Uh, sure … ? Why?” Bokuto asked, squawking in surprise when Kuroo crushed him in a hug.

“You’re the greatest fucking guy, you know that? Your big heart hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Hey, hey.” Bokuto hugged him back, patting his back. “What can I say? I’m just that awesome. It’s the least I could do.”

How could Kuroo have ever doubted that Bokuto and him would be anything less than best friends, ever after a decade apart?

 

 

By the time they’d finally settled on catching at least some sleep, Kuroo did not expect to find someone else awake still. Despite feeling really, _really_ tired enough to pass right out – after today, Kuroo just couldn’t leave Yamaguchi sitting there by himself. He made sure the other man would know he was approaching, could maybe protest if he didn’t want him there. But Yamaguchi stayed quiet, so Kuroo sat down next to him, one leg outstretched, one pulled up to his body so he could lean his cheek on it.

“What’s got you still up? You doin’ alright? It’s been a rough day.”

Yamaguchi exhaled shakily, and stayed quiet. Kuroo tried to get a look at his face, but the light was too dim, made him all the more unreadable.

“Do you want to be left alone? Should I go?”

“Please don’t,” Yamaguchi asked, voice small.

Kuroo’s heart squeezed together, and he nodded. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

He averted his gaze, unwilling to put Yamaguchi on the spot by staring. Just waiting for something, anything.

There were a lot of questions burning on his tongue after today, questions about Yamaguchi's and Tsukishima’s past he had never gotten out of his student. But it wasn’t his place to pry, not in the aftermath of what had happened to them.

When Yamaguchi finally spoke, he sounded tired, sounded worn out. “I almost lost him today.”

Kuroo did turn his head, tried to look at him and read his expression. Yamaguchi looked tired, face twisted in what looked … almost like regret. Frustration.

“But you didn’t. You saved Tsukki.”

Yamaguchi laughed, a bitter and warbled little sound. “Me? I almost got him _killed._ I -” He broke off, taking a deep breath, struggling. “I - I wasn’t st-strong enough - any second longer - and, and I couldn’t have held out -”

He buried his face in his hands. “I’m not strong enough. I work and work and I’m still not strong enough to -”

“Bullshit.” Kuroo cursed himself for the harshness in his voice, but he couldn’t hear Yamaguchi go on about something like that even a second longer. “This fucker caught us off guard. If you’d hesitated for another second he could’ve slit Tsukki's throat right then and there. But you put him on the spot immediately and rendered him immobile with your arrow. And then you kept it up, unwavering.”

“I was wavering,” Yamaguchi choked out. “My arms haven’t stopped trembling or feeling weak ever since -”

“It didn’t look like that to me. To anyone. You were brave, and strong. Took my breath away a little there. If your arms feel weak now - that’s just the strain of the strength you’ve shown.”

“I’m not strong,” Yamaguchi protested again, weakly. His voice sounded so, so tired. “I - I almost lost Tsukki … again. Yachi and Hinata lost Kiyoko and Kageyama. And - and all I can do is hold a bow and wait for others to do the important things.”

Yamaguchi rubbed at his eyes, exhaling again, a sharp and frustrated sound. “I’m so tired of being useless. He - Valentin was right. I’m still the same crybaby I used to be.”

Kuroo’s hands twitched as he ignored the impulse to reach out. “I don’t know who you used to be. Hell, until all the shit with Sparrow went down I didn’t even consider you a friend. But I’ve seen _you_ and I know who you are right here and now. You listenin’ to me? Look at me, Yamaguchi. C’mon.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Yamaguchi turned to face him. The lantern painted harsh shadows on his features, made his eyes gleam. He looked almost scared of what Kuroo was about to tell him.

“I’ve admired you ever since you saved Tsukki, back then. You were _half dead_ and you still pushed yourself to send that arrow flying and despite everything it hit dead-on. You must’ve put insane amounts of work into your aim, you’re always working hard, doing your best. You’re a good guy, too. And I still wanna punch that idiot for saying such shit in the first place.”

Yaaguchi gave a shaking, wobbly little laugh at that last added bit. Kuroo smiled, feeling triumphant that he could make Yamaguchi laugh even when there was no doubt that he was fighting tears by now.

“For real, I would’ve punched him really hard. But _I_ was the one standing back while you took the stage and saved Tsukki. What you’re saying isn’t even true. So cheer up, alright?” He flicked Yamaguchi’s forehead, gently, because for a second Kuroo didn’t have enough control to keep his hands safely at his sides.

Yamaguchi blinked at him, in disbelief, the corner of his mouth curling into the hint of a smile. And then he closed his eyes, a slow but real smile spreading on his face, and his hair fell into his eyes and the dusting of freckles across his nose was the most adorable thing in the world and Kuroo was so, so, so, _so_ doomed. Because what the fuck was he doing? What the hell was he thinking?! Yamaguchi was Tsukishima’s -

“He’s right.”

Kuroo flinched when he heard the voice, hadn’t even heard footsteps coming closer. “You were really amazing, Yamaguchi.” It was Yachi, her voice small. Kuroo took his chance to scoot over, so she could sit down between Yamaguchi and him.

“What’s got you still up?” he asked, even though the answer was clear for all of them. What they had witnessed wouldn't leave anyone untouched.

Yachi sat down between them, reluctantly leaning towards Yamaguchi as if questioning whether that was okay. He shuffled a little closer and wrapped an arm around her, and she sighed and closed her eyes. Kuroo felt strangely left out, all of a sudden.

Those two probably didn’t need him here when they could support each other already. Yachi would certainly talk more openly with Yamaguchi than him.

“Think I’ll be headin’ to sleep now. Will you guys be alright?”

“Don’t worry about us,” Yamaguchi said, his voice much less wavering. Maybe because he wanted to be strong for Yachi. Or maybe because Kuroo’s words had gotten through to him. Whatever it was, Kuroo didn't care, as long as all of them would be okay, somehow.

They would get through this.

Kuroo wished them a good night, leaving them the lantern so they wouldn’t sit in the dark, feeling his way through the darkness carefully.

On his slow way, he could still pick up their voices.

“You, too, Yachi. You were incredible today. You’re so strong!”

“I - I’m not. I’m just … pretending to be for Hinata.”

“What?! Of course you’re strong! Listen, you - !”

Yamaguchi’s words were swallowed, only the muffled sound of his voice still reaching Kuroo’s ears, but no doubt he was preaching the same to Yachi Kuroo had been telling him. Both of these kids were idiots of the exact same kind, birds of a feather.

It made Kuroo smile.

 

\---

 

Nobody was better at taking your mind off things than Fukurodani.

Whenever Hinata found himself brooding, without fail, someone would pop up and talk to him, making their way back home much … easier, in a way.

 _There’s no home without him._ The words still rang true. The pain never stopped. But sometimes, the people around him made him forget for some blissful time, and he was grateful for that.

He talked about food and stunts with Komi, and at some point found himself discussing the sea and the beach with Konoha and Miyuki, until the memories became too painful and Hinata excused himself to fall back within the group. Kuroo and Bokuto were still talking a lot, gesturing and laughing, catching up on what had happened to them during the past decade.

_Even after an entire decade, they’re still this close._

He balled his fists at his side.

_But I won’t lose him for a decade. He will be back home, before summer comes._

That was his silent vow.

_Before summer comes._

  


They took a small rest, and for a while after that, Hinata simply led Meatball, left to his own thoughts. Not the best decision. Not at all.

“Hey, shorty!” Hinata was almost grateful to be torn out of the thoughts closing in on him from all sides. He looked up, feeling a little thrill when he realised that it was Bokuto approaching him.

“You asked me to teach you, right?”

Hinata’s mouth fell open. “Y-yeah! Yeah I did!”

“Well, then congratulations, boy!” Bokuto wrapped an arm around his shoulder, crushing him against his side so that Hinata was jostled and Meatball protested about the ruckus. “You just got yourself the best teacher around!”

“I’ll help, too!” Komi bounded up to them, eyes alight with enthusiasm. “I bet you’ll pick it up in no time!”

“So will I learn how to twist like that?! And how to be thrown and how to do a double salto backwards?!” Hinata asked excitedly.

Bokuto and Komi shot each other a look.

“Uhm, not quite -” Komi began, rubbing the back of his neck. “You gotta start with the basics. The fancy stuff comes much, much later.”

Oh. Of course, that made sense …

“Hey, hey, don’t look so down! The harder you work the faster you’ll get to the fancy stuff!” Bokuto clapped his back, hard enough for Hinata to stumble a step forwards. “So do your best!”

“Alright!”

They spent the rest of the journey talking about how Hinata’s training would start out and how it had started out for Bokuto. Sometimes Hinata couldn’t help laughing, actually _laughing_ when Bokuto kept and kept whining as Komi enthusiastically told the story of how Bokuto had flung him right into a wall in training.

“I tried to give him my tooth as a good luck charm but he didn’t want it!”

“You should _keep_ your tooth,” Bokuto replied, gesturing wildly. “What if you need it?!”

“I can’t put it back in anyway.”

“Can I see it?!” Hinata asked excitedly.

Both Bokuto and Komi laughed at that, and Komi promised to show him sometime later. And like that, with Bokuto and Komi at his side, Hinata couldn’t think much, the way back. Whenever his thoughts wandered to Kageyama, to worrying and agonising, the two pulled him right out of it and distracted him.

But when they reached the boundary of camp, it all came crashing down.

He was returning here without Kageyama.

Kageyama was gone.

Camp was still the same, nobody _knew_ what had happened to them. Not yet.

Hinata shut down, eyes wide as he approached his home and every step felt wrong, wrong, wrong. He didn’t want to see camp. He didn’t want to see their shelter, like they left it, the bedding rumpled from when they’d thrown it back without care as they got up two sunrises ago.

A million signs of Kageyama still there.

Everything was still _there,_ right where they had left it.

It was just him, gone.

Bokuto and Komi eventually fell quiet, and then Yachi caught up to him and laced their fingers and Hinata knew she felt exactly the same.

When they made it into camp, each step burning and painful, the familiar surroundings stinging like salt in their fresh wounds, Hinata and Yachi clung to each other so hard their fingers hurt.

“Oh, thank God!” Daichi called, striding towards them. Tanaka and Nishinoya started whooping. Hinata stared at the ground, and stopped moving. The group around him hesitated, then kept moving, slowly following through the entrance. Yachi stayed with him, until Daichi had made his way over. Hinata let go of her hand a second before Yachi herself knew she would break into a run and hug Daichi as tightly as she could.

“Hinata,” he could hear a voice next to him, soft with concern. And something within him broke. He let go of Meatball’s reigns and stumbled into Suga, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face at his chest. Like he’d done so many times when he’d been little and felt like Suga and Daichi could probably fix everything for them. Only, nobody could fix this. Nobody could fix this, and how would he know if he would ever find Kageyama again?

He could be anywhere in the world.

Suga held him close, whispering his name again, no questions. Just comfort.

Hinata started crying and clung to him like he was a kid again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE!!!! THEY ARE!!!! FUKURODANI!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have literally been waiting since back when I was still writing on lwu for this. AND NOW ITS HERE!!!!  
> At this point, a shout-out to Lily ([paraplyene](https://twitter.com/paraplyene)), Owl Empress extraordinaire and your address for all things Fukurodani. Thanks for helping me out with the backstories so much <3 
> 
> See you guys next week!!! ~ ☆
> 
> Edit: CAN YOU BELIEVE THE FUKURODANI MANAGERS GOT NAMES A WEEK AFTER I POST THIS CHAPTER! (God bless, but omg, what timing. Edited their proper names in now!)


	6. To the edge of the world, if we have to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the opponent becomes clear, and nobody considers defeat for even a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of people I should thank for dragging me out of my slump and supporting me in the ... well, pretty harsh months I've had. But, you know, it's not only my friends. 
> 
> I wanna thank you guys, too. For your encouraging comments, breathtaking art. For all your patience and encouragement, and making me want to work harder, always. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> For motivation, I compiled some pretty rad tunes that capture the essence of what this story is going to be! [Feel free to check it out as kind of a teaser!](http://8tracks.com/citrusfluegel/a-reason-to-get-nervous)
> 
> And, once more - I'm blessed to share incredible, gorgeous art with you. (Both for Lost Crow and Lwu!)  
> [Camp itself and badass Daisuga!](http://inkcaviness.tumblr.com/post/130353223858/i-tried-to-draw-more-stuff-from-come-and-get-lost)  
> [Kagehina!](http://sweetcandyholic.tumblr.com/post/131409530441)  
> [If Hinata's wrecked expression wrecked you clap your hands](http://kenkatsuki.tumblr.com/post/132266862886/okayyy-so-i-drew-these-a-while-ago-after-i-read) (Deafening applause)
> 
>  
> 
> [Yaku! ](http://inkcaviness.tumblr.com/post/130496393183/he-would-have-to-get-used-to-living-here-for-a)  
> [Tfw art is is so painfully accurate](http://bulbaderp.tumblr.com/post/130392523664)  
> [Goodness, waterfall Kagehinas](http://viv-bugg.tumblr.com/post/130890962135/there-so-many-different-scenes-i-wanted-to-draw-up) ( ~~Remember when everything went to hell but at least they still had each other~~ )  
> [Click at own risk, goodbye my daisuga heart](http://silly-drawings-by-aka-chan.tumblr.com/post/134387771406/argh-i-tried-to-read-this-chapter-and-again-burst)

Hinata’s skin stung from the ice cold water he had scrubbed it with, long enough for him to feel like maybe, even if it was all pretense, he could look remotely human. So people would stop sending pitiful glances his way.

He didn’t want to be pitied. What he wanted was to be terrifying, terrifying enough to chase people like this disgusting Valentin away from his friends with just his words. And strong, strong enough to bring Kageyama and Kiyoko back.

Hinata wouldn’t rest until he was _enough_ for all this.

He'd chosen to sneak around the back of Daichi's and Suga's shelter, squeeze between the house and the stone, rather than take the direct way. Just to avoid some additional glances, even though he wouldn't be able to outrun them anyway, with the upcoming meeting.

What Hinata hadn't anticipated or expected was hearing a hushed voice. He froze where he was, hesitating. Bokuto keeping his voice down? The strangeness of it made Hinata peek around the corner, staying perfectly quiet.

“Just - I think I should bring it up soon.”

His new teacher was standing with another guy from Fukurodani, the one with the dark, disheveled hair who’d saved Bokuto from that knife. A … kaashi? Or something. The guy reached out, gently touching Bokuto’s arm.

“Trust me. I’ve got a gut feeling we should stay put and wait. Things will fall into place.”

Hinata furrowed his brows.

Stay put and wait? For what?

Akaashi opened his mouth, definitely planning to say more – but then Hinata leaned out a little too far, losing balance and toppling right around the corner with an undignified noise.

“Uh … hi!” He awkwardly got back to his feet, brushing off the dirt. “I was just on my way … passing by … we'll meet to talk about our plans now.” That had been a smooth enough save, right? (Hinata wanted to vanish.)

But Bokuto broke into a wide smile and bounded up to him, patting his back and laughing, enthusiastic to see him. Akaashi was much slower to follow, and feeling his intent gaze boring into himself made Hinata incredibly nervous.

For some reason it always seemed as if Akaashi knew much more than they all did. It creeped Hinata out.

“May we come with you and join the discussion of further proceedings? I think we could help,” Akaashi asked, polite enough.

Reflexively, Hinata wanted to decline, but having Bokuto next to him inexplicably made him feel stronger. A little more grounded, and willing to put up as much of a fight as he was capable of.

“I guess it won’t be a problem,” he replied. If Daichi was really against it, he would still be able to throw them back out again. Besides, Fukurodani as a whole _had_ saved them. If Bokuto put this much trust into Akaashi, and Hinata put trust into him in turn – didn't that mean Hinata could trust Akaashi as well?

“Then lead the way, favourite new student of mine!” Bokuto called, and it brought a hint of a smile to Hinata’s face.

“We're pretty much already here!”

 

The shelter was almost too small for all the people crowded there.

Kuroo still looked oddly apologetic, almost guilty, where he sat next to Daichi. Suga sat straight, his head held high, but fingers curled into fists tightly enough for his knuckles to go white.

Next to him, Saeko's eyes were pretty much burning, and she kept sending Akaashi and Bokuto lingering glances past the face of a nervous-looking Akiteru next to her, as if she was feeling the same kind of unease Hinata had gotten from Akaashi's words earlier.

Asahi's hand rested warm on Hinata's shoulder, squeezed in a reassuring gesture before he sat down next to him. It felt a little easier to breathe, with a presence as strong, yet calm as Asahi's right next to him. To Hinata's left sat Kenma, another soothing presence, shooting glances between Hinata and Kuroo.

Yachi had decided not to attend. Hinata felt a little lost, without her.

“We’ve all heard the story, so I think we can get straight to the point,” Daichi said, darkly, face set in determination. The tension in the air was high, none of them willing to sit and talk, all yearning for action, to get _moving._

But a proper plan was necessary. Kuroo hadn't been wrong in that.

“May I speak?” Akaashi asked, raising his hand. Next to him, Bokuto was fidgeting. “We've dealt with groups like these before.”

Daichi had obviously hoped to get input by his own people first, but inclined his head. “Without you, some of my family would not even be here right now. You may.”

“Slave traders captured your friends,” Akaashi explained. “Under normal circumstances, everyone captured would have been taken past the forest, to the closest market in the south. By horse, you could reach that place within a day and a half from here. However -”

The hope swelling in Hinata's chest wavered like a candle's flame hit by a breeze, threatening to cease again.

“Only two of your friends were taken, and we were able to free the rest of them easily. Such proceedings are … highly unconventional. I have a feeling there might be something more to it. … special circumstances, so to say.”

The tension in the room grew, like a fist closing around them. Hinata only realised why when he felt Akaashi's intent gaze on him, calm and calculated in a way nobody at Karasuno or Nekoma could be anymore.

“I know you've been through a lot. But for the sake of your friends I'm asking you to remember exactly what happened.”

Asahi shifted, like he was ready to shield Hinata bodily, mouth opening to speak, but Daichi was faster.

“You wanted to speak, not force details out of my son,” he informed Akaashi coolly. “We’ve heard all we need to know, from Hinata _and_ you. He's told this story already. Your help is appreciated, but rather in being our guide towards that place. We will settle on who will go and leave within the next hour.”

The Cats and Crows nodded in agreement, but Akaashi stayed unrelenting.

“You’re making a mistake. I do not think it is that easy.”

“Listen,” Bokuto piped up, in the ensuing silence, so tense Hinata felt like the air had gotten thinner. “This man has saved my life more times than I can count. If there’s anyone you should trust in getting your friends back - it’s him. Hinata, you’re okay with some more questions, right?”

Under Bokuto’s intense gaze and expectation, there was no way Hinata could refuse. Maybe it _was_ important.

Suga shot Bokuto a glare. “You don’t have to, Hinata. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. However …” He trailed off, as if Suga, too, was wondering if they were overlooking something crucial.

Hinata dug his fingers into the fabric of his pants. Still the same ripped and dirty ones - he hadn’t been able to bring himself to set one foot into the shelter to retrieve something else and change. “It’s - what’s even unusual when they tie you up and knock you out and take you away?” he asked, words like needles on his tongue. If he thought of it, he could see it all again, and he didn’t want to - the limp bodies of his friends as they were heaved onto the horse's backs, their struggle beforehand, Kageyama’s attempts of trading himself for the three of them -

“Hinata.” Kenma wrapped both his hands around his, squeezing gently but with enough pressure to pull him back from the images. “Breathe, you don’t - you don’t have to do this.”

“What’s your problem?!” Saeko hissed at Akaashi. There were more people, voices rising in argument, and Hinata’s breathing came uncontrollably and fast because -

_I’m the one you’re seeking._

Checking for _marks_ the _marks_ how could he not have -

“Their marks!” he gasped, yanking his hand free from Kenma’s grasp to press both over his mouth against the sudden nausea rising inside him. He felt so sick, he wasn’t sure he could keep going at all.

The truth came crashing down on him with so much force he couldn't _take it._

With a choked up noise, Hinata scooted away from Kenma's attempts at comfort, until his back hit the wall and he could lean his head against it. He couldn’t stand to be touched or doted at or spoke to. Not right now. Hinata closed his eyes against the vertigo. He had to keep going, _explain_. Nobody here knew Kageyama like he did - they didn’t know everything about him. Most of them had probably forgotten what little they _did_ know about _the mark_.  This retched, rotten mark which had done nothing but curse Kageyama from the second it had been burned into his skin. 

By the time he could open his eyes again, everyone in the room was looking at him.

“The King,” Hinata said, his voice sounding off and distant to himself. “They say Kageyama killed the King.” He didn’t. He hadn’t. They’d been over this so often, so long ago. Hinata knew everything. All of it. He trusted Kageyama. He didn't kill the King, but nobody else knew that.

There was still a bounty on his head.

“They recognised his mark. The mark of the -” _Of the King's Dog._

Hinata couldn't say it. Not even now. The title going along with the mark, with the past that had left Kageyama's body and soul covered in too many scars to count.

Forced him into misery, covered his hands in blood, then framed him for the one crime Kageyama had never committed.

They’d hold him accountable for it, now.

What did people get for killing the King of the country?

Suddenly, Hinata felt like throwing up. He shot to his feet, stumbled outside, as far as he could go on before he fell to his knees and vomited into the grass. His entire body was shaking, he didn’t know what to - what to -

Hinata fell sideways, rolling away from the smell. Curled up as tightly as he could. His fingers grasped at his sleeves, his skin.

A sob ripped from his throat, shaking his entire body with its force. They’d _kill_ him - they’d _kill Kageyama_ and there was _nothing,_ nothing he could do.

Not against a King willing to revenge his successor.

The most powerful man in this country demanded Kageyama's head on a stake, and Hinata was nothing more than a boy in rags from the forests.

He curled up even more tightly, small, as small as he felt.

Someone called for Hinata. He wasn’t sure who had followed him, didn’t want to answer.

He didn’t _want_ to pull himself together. Clung to the darkness of his own palms over his eyes, sobbing into his skin.

Kageyama would die alone, scared and - Hinata would never -

Who said Kageyama wasn’t dead _already._

The person calling for Hinata was insistent, tugging at him. Hands were fleeting over his body, both comfort and urge to sit up. Hinata clumsily tried to pry them off himself, but the voice got more and more urgent until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, forced his eyes open to stare into amber ones above him.

Nishinoya grabbed him under his armpits, non-chalantly dragged him into a sitting position and across the grass until he could sit slumped against Asahi’s tree. Tears were spilling over his face and dripping down his chin uncontrollably, but Hinata didn’t care to brush them away.

Nishinoya did for him.

He pulled a greasy tissue from one of his countless pockets and started patting his tears away, then folded it over his nose and pestered Hinata to blow it until Hinata reached up to at least hold the tissue himself.

Crumpling it in his fist, he let his hand drop again. Weak.

He felt so weak.

If Nishinoya would ask him what was going on, Hinata would have to tell him that Kageyama would die. And Kiyoko, too. She would die, too. Whatever that mark of hers had been.

He started sobbing again. His mouth tasted vile and disgusting and he felt like the most pathetic human being under the sun, but he couldn’t stop.

“I got him, don’t worry,” Nishinoya assured another person. Someone from the meeting must have followed him, but kept his distance. Hinata was grateful, he didn’t need anyone else to see him like this. He leaned away to the side, bringing his arms up to hide his snotty, wet face.

Nishinoya got up, then returned with a cup.

“I don’t _want_ to calm down!” Hinata shouted, too little air to give his voice substance, breaking off shakily and bursting into another sob that tore all through him. Why did they want to give him that damn calming tea now?! The least losing Kageyama deserved was the full intensity of his grief.

“It’s just water, for the taste. And so you won’t get a headache.”

Hinata gave in, holding the cup in his violently trembling hands, spilling half its contents over his lap and chin. What little he did manage to swallow felt like some life was returning to him. Nishinoya produced another greasy tissue to pat over his chin clumsily, forcing Hinata to put the empty cup down and pry his well-meaning hands away.

“I think this won’t do - you’re a little, uh, greasy -”

Hinata didn’t care about a dirty face or water or wiping tears away or anything.

He would never see Kageyama again.

He wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.

“He’s gone,” he choked out, covering his face with his hands. “He’s _gone_.” His voice broke. That one word sliced through him like a knife.

“That’s why we’ll get him back. Don’t you worry!” Nishinoya sounded so confident. But he didn’t _know._

“It’s the King,” Hinata sobbed. “The King will kill Kageyama for killing his father. But it wasn't _him!_ But they all say it _was_ and we can’t break into a huge palace and - “

“Why not?” Nishinoya’s question was genuine. It wiped all words from Hinata’s tongue. He peeked through his fingers, saw the fire awakening in Nishinoya’s eyes. “I didn't get half of whose father killed which King, but what I know is that I owe Kageyama. If I have to get into a palace and punch the King to march back out with Kageyama in tow, I’ll do it.”

He crackled his knuckles, the glint in his eyes turning dark. “Besides, they thought they could hurt Kiyoko. I won’t stand for this.”

Nishinoya got up to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Hinata asked, suddenly terrified of being left all alone.

“I’ll go tell Daichi I’ll go to Shiratorizawa and bust them out of the palace. You wanna come with? I can help you walk.”

Between the option to be left sitting alone against the tree and stumbling along with Nishinoya, Hinata chose the latter.

His breathing was unstable and shuddering from exhaustion and pain, and he could barely stumble along. Did he really want everyone to see him like this?

But here they were already, too late to go back. Another heated discussion had fallen quiet. All eyes on them.

Hinata wanted to hide.

“So they’re gonna try to execute Kageyama and Kiyoko in Shiratorizawa?!” Nishinoya called into the room.

“Nishinoya -” Daichi started, trying to interject, but Nishinoya talked over him. “Well, there’s nothing to fear! I’m coming with to bust them out! And as long as I have your back, everything will be fine! Hell, I’ll even lead the mission if you want me to!”

Hinata expected the protests before they came.

“Forget it,” Daichi answered immediately. With a shuddering exhale, Hinata closed his eyes. Of course. This plan was too insane to go through with it.

“I’m leading the mission.”

Hinata’s eyes snapped back open.

“What if I want to lead the mission, though,” Kuroo interjected, sending Daichi a challenging little gaze. “It was me who promised to bring them back.”

“If you two will squabble all the way, I’ll sneak valerian root into your food,” Suga threatened with an innocent smile.

“Oh, Suga, don’tcha worry. I’ll keep ‘em in check,” Saeko promised. Akiteru’s head flew around, but she waved her hand before he could protest. “They took my _best friend._ You think I’ll sit around here and wait nicely? I’m not sick, Akiteru.”

“But -”

She put a finger over his lips. “Later, alright?”

He nodded, reluctantly.

Bokuto was almost jumping up and down where he sat, looking at Akaashi. When he gave a small nod, Bokuto whirled around to cheer with a huge smile: “We’re coming with you to help! We know someone who will help you get into the castle!”

“What the fuck, Bo. For real?” Kuroo asked, looking torn between alarm and admiration, and Bokuto nodded wildly.

“If you need to get into the castle, he’s your man.”

“That sounds absolutely fishy,” Daichi said, pointer finger up. “And by all means, this is insane. But if the King himself has business with my people, I'll be damned if I won't raid a castle, too, if I have to.”

“You do,” Kuroo replied, his grin sharp. “But we’re all with you. And the bastard will regret the day he tried to mess with the forest.”

Nishinoya threw his head back and laughed. “Man, and I thought things were getting kinda boring around here in all the calm! I’ll go scrape up all black powder I have and put it to good use … we’ll show up in this city armed to the teeth!”

Nishinoya sent Hinata a questioning glance, who nodded and untangled himself. This sudden hope was enough for Hinata to be able to stand on his own two feet again, even if he was shaky. Nishinoya threw them a salute, then vanished to start his preparations.

Hinata needed to stay here right now. Needed to hear that these people, family, friends, strangers - would stop at nothing to save Kageyama. Needed the hope that kept his heart beating.

“We need to be fast. There’s not much time for preparations …” Kenma interjected, troubled. “I wish we could be … more prepared for what we’re heading towards.”

“You comin’ with?” Kuroo asked, and Kenma gave him a _look_ , then glanced at Hinata with the tiniest hint of a smile. “Of course I am.”

Hope started prickling in Hinata’s fingertips, running along his skin like wildfire.

“There might be more time,” Akaashi said, still calm when all eyes were on him again. “We know Shiratorizawa. Your friend has been the most sought criminal for five years. Capturing him … executing him, it won’t be silent, under the hand. They will try to celebrate, placate it. Which is our luck. They need to prepare for such a thing. It buys us time.”

“Jeez, I never thought I’d be relieved that court likes making a drama out of things,” Kuroo muttered, shaking his head.

Hinata felt conflicted, shaken up by the fact that they would have to keep Kageyama and Kiyoko, too, from getting executed, but – time was what they needed. Time would grant them a chance to fight.  
When Hinata was granted the chance to fight, he would _not_ lose. 

“By the time we reach the city, we will know for when his execution is scheduled,” Akaashi mused.

“Then we break them out before that, take them home and fight off anyone who tries to come back for more,” Daichi threatened darkly. “That sounds like a plan. Now we just need to fill everyone in and see who feels like raiding a castle.”

 

\---

 

“Have you seen Yachi anywhere?”

Yamaguchi looked troubled, even though there was probably no need to.

Tsukishima shook his head. He hadn’t seen her since they’d gotten here, and camp had been a mess ever since. The bunch of newcomers awkwardly sat scattered around the entrance, as if they couldn’t wait to leave again. Tsukishima couldn’t blame them. Nobody here had the mind to even try and make them feel welcome, since everyone was only gearing up to leave as soon as possible.

“I’m just worried about her,” Yamaguchi muttered, as if he had to explain himself, rubbing his neck.

“She seemed to be handling it well, though.” Remarkably so. Yachi had kept it together better than Kuroo, at points.

“Yachi and I …”, Yamaguchi began, fidgeting. “We’re kind of the same. I just … I don’t have a good feeling. I wanna find her. Will you help me? She'll definitely need to be there for the big gathering.”

Well, there was nothing better to do anyway. Without a word, Tsukishima got to his feet.

Yamaguchi’s answering smile was way too bright. “Thanks, Tsukki!”

He clicked his tongue and waved it off - there wasn’t much to thank him for. He probably wouldn’t find her before Yamaguchi did, anyways.

Or so he thought.

He’d gone by his gut instincts - where would he go if he wanted to escape anyone nagging him? And there she was, kneeling on the ground.

Any word got stuck in Tsukishima’s throat. His eyes widened when he saw the scissors gleaming in her hand, the mess of cut off hair surrounding her in chunks. Her entire body was trembling with sobs.

Without another word he rushed forwards, taking the scissors from her hands. He'd rather not leave anything sharp in the hands of a hysterical person.

Feeling out of his depth, with no _idea_ how to deal with this, all Tsukishima could do was say her name. “Yachi.”

“I can’t stand it,” she sobbed. “My hair’s always brushing my skin - always in my face and I c-can’t -” She broke off, gasping for air, shaking with another tremor of sadness running all through her. “I t-tried to braid it but _Kiyoko_ -”

Tsukishima understood. She wasn’t here to braid Yachi’s hair for her, not anymore. He bit down on his lip, balled his fists in his lap.

He wouldn’t stand for this. This rescue mission was far from over. It would be when everyone was back home.

When he wouldn't find Yachi curled up, broken. When Tsukishima could stop pretending he hadn't noticed Hinata's swollen eyes after the meeting.

Yachi buried her face in her hands and keeled over, her hair a chunky mess hanging around her. “D-don’t tell anyone,” she pleaded.

“They might help.” _Better than I can, at least._

But the girl shook her head wildly. “ _No!_ I - I have to be strong ....”

Tsukishima carefully put this scissors down behind him, out of her reach. He studied her short frame, curled up so tightly as if she could hide her grief away from the world like that. “I … I have to b-be strong … for Hinata.”

Her body was still trembling so harshly, her voice almost hoarse from crying. How long had she been sitting here? All alone? Trying her hardest to stay strong in the face of such a loss?

Even if they may not be siblings by blood, Yachi and Hinata truly shared the same stubbornness.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he reassured her. Her rigid shoulders relaxed the slightest bit. Keeping up a strong farce in front of her brother seemed to be incredibly important to her. “You'll fool them anyway. But don't think you can hide it from me in the future.”

An even harder sob tore from Yachi’s throat in answer, so much that Tsukishima was worried he had fucked up and made things worse. But instead, Yachi sat up, facing him and wiping her tears away with both her hands. Despite the desperation in her expression, there was the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

“Y-you’re … actually r-really amazing,” she choked out, failing to keep her voice even. “A-and I’m sorry … you had to see me like this. You p-probably think I’m … pathetic.”

Tsukishima thought back to the time he had suffered loss, or simply faced it. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Such reactions were only natural, facing what she had been through. Nothing pathetic about it.

Yachi took a deep breath, keeping her eyes closed, fighting to keep her face perfectly neutral. When she exhaled, her gaze seemed a lot more clear. Despite the tears still clinging to her lashes, the fire in her eyes burned relentlessly. “Thank you. But - …” She reluctantly lifted one hand, pointing at her hair with a rueful smile. “This is definitely pathetic.”

Tsukishima grabbed for the scissors again, and gestured for Yachi to move a little closer.

“Uh … w-what?” she squeaked, her hands fidgeting wildly.

Tsukishima looked at Yachi again, with her choppy hair and splotchy cheeks and swollen eyes. There was no way he could fix any of this – not immediately, not alone. But her hair, that much he could do.

“I’ll cut your hair. It …” He looked at the shortest strands of it. Not much to be saved there. “It will look best short.”

Yachi winced. She had stopped crying, but deflated a little. “She loved my hair ...”

Tsukishima ran his fingers over Yachi's messed up hair, partly to figure out how much of it he could save, partly hoping it had the same soothing effect like on Yamaguchi when Tsukishima took care of his hair.

“It’ll grow back. And as soon as we bring her back, Kiyoko can take care of it again.”

Yachi’s rigid posture in reply to that made him realise that of course, she hadn’t been around to hear about what they had figured out and what insane plan was about to be set into motion. He decided to break it to her before getting started on the actual cutting part. “We’ve figured out where they took the two of them. The rescue mission is being set into motion right now.”

So far, so good. Now he just had to break to her the tiny detail that their goal was the palace, the center of power and wealth of this Kingdom. A fortress rumoured impossible to be overtaken. Unattainable for all unless invited.

This entire rescue mission was so insane that with all the crazy people involved, Tsukishima figured it might just work.

“We’re going to Shiratorizawa.”

“They’re in the city?”

Tsukishima wished he could leave it at that. The palace was technically in the city. It towered above it, an endless symbol of how powerless the citizens were against orders from above, against the reign.

“They’re in the palace.”

Yachi whirled around, and Tsukishima was grateful the scissors were still safely in his lap. Yachi’s eyes were wide, terrified. “We - we can’t - ! The _palace?!”_ She seemed about ready to ask _why,_ when she hesitated for a second. Her face twisted when Yachi realised herself what was going to happen.

“Apparently their execution will be a big procedure, which gives us enough time to raid that oversized house and return here with both of them before they really get their hands on them.”

“You make it sound like it’s not impossible,” Yachi mumbled. Her voice still sounded ragged, but she sat utterly still, mind at work.

“It’s not like we’re trying to overthrow the King. We just want to snatch two prisoners away from him.”

Yachi forced herself to steel her shoulders and nodded. “You're right.” She sniffled, wiped over her ears with the back of her hand. “Even if it kills me, we'll get them back.”

“I know,” Tsukishima replied. He'd never doubted Yachi in the first place. “Now, turn around. I’ll cut your hair.”

She nodded, following dutifully and holding still as he calmly let her golden hair fall and fall around her into the grass. At least he could keep her hair longer than his own, albeit not by much.

“Oh God,” Yachi muttered, when her hair kept falling.

“It’ll be more practical in fighting,” Tsukishima told her. And then Yachi went quiet and simply braved through it. He brushed the last of the hair off her shoulders and neck as best as he could, but it was probably a lost cause until she would change.

“I’m done. You look good.”

Yachi ran her hands over her short hair with a choked up noise. “It’s so light. It feels so … weird.”

Tsukishima didn’t know what to answer to that, so he kept quiet until Yachi dropped her hands again and sighed.

“I just need a bit to breathe,” she mumbled. “Then I’ll be okay. Then I can go back.”

“You need to change anyway. I’ll tell them you’ll be there in a minute.” And, in another thought, he dug out a tissue from his pocket, belatedly feeling like an asshole for not having that idea a _little_ earlier.

Yachi sent him a glance in turn, like _really?,_ with a crooked little smile on her face. She accepted it anyway, thanked him too enthusiastically for what little Tsukishima had actually done, and hurried off. 

 

Tsukishima only listened half-heartedly to what Daichi was telling them in the gathering. A lecture about safety and precautions and responsibility didn't affect him, he knew already that he was going to follow this insane group.

Yamaguchi paid more attention, hands crossed at the small of his back. Whenever Daichi would stress the potential dangers, Tsukishima's friend would rub the back of his hand, a nervous gesture he'd never quite grown out of. Had never learned to actually hide from eyes that knew how to perceive.

Of course, Yamaguchi would follow along, too. Both of them had promised to bring everyone back safely.

That mission wasn't over yet, as simple as that.

“Besides, we need strong fighters here,” Daichi stressed. “We do not know whether those people will come back to try and find more people they could hand over for a juicy bounty. I need someone who can assure that nobody blows this place up while we’re gone, and that all of you are still in one piece when we get back.”

“Noya’s gonna come with, so nobody’s gonna blow camp up!” Tanaka called, taking the dark edge from Daichi’s words and causing chuckles to ripple through the tense group, easing the atmosphere. Nishinoya simply grinned as if that was something to be proud of.

Sometimes Tsukishima couldn't believe the people he was living with.

“I’ll keep you in check, you wait and see,” Daichi replied with the smile that always made Asahi cower in fear, and everyone else visibly nervous. The leader cleared his throat, turning back to the matter at hand. “Either way, I want you to consider your decision carefully. Do you think your qualities are needed more on our mission or in this camp? Both is important.”

He looked around, meeting the gaze of every single member gathered.

“The people who will protect camp take a step back, the ones volunteering for this mission take a step forwards.”

There was a little chaos. Tsukishima saw the rueful smile on Michimiya’s face as she stepped back - as the only healer left in this camp, there was no other choice for her. Meanwhile, Nishinoya tried physically wrestling Asahi to move backwards.

“You’ve fought enough for a lifetime! I won’t watch you suffer like that again! You’re not meant for fighting and being scary!”

Asahi shook his head, drawn to his full height, looking grim and ready to do whatever it took. “I can fight. I'm not weak just because I prefer peace.”

“I'm not saying that!” Nishinoya shouted, the passion in his voice making Asahi stumble half a step back. “I won't see you push yourself so far ever again! I swore to you a decade ago! Never again! Don't make me break that promise!” Nishinoya puffed himself up to full size, which, granted, still wasn’t much. He pointed at his chest. “Leave it to me! I’ll work hard for both of us! And when I return you have to make my favourite meal, got it?!”

Asahi balled his fists at his side, his facial expression changing rapidly in his struggle to find his answer. Then, he bowed his head and took a step backwards.

“I’m counting on you.”

“Damn right you are! We’ll be back in no time, so don’t you worry ‘bout anyone! You keep camp safe in turn!”

Asahi nodded, face set in determination. With his attention off them, Tsukishima felt taken aback seeing his brother in the inner circle.

… standing next to Saeko, holding her hand. Maybe Tsukishima shouldn’t have been so surprised. Akiteru caught his gaze, sending him a smile. He didn't need to say anything for Tsukishima to know _I’ll look after you two_ was written across his face, and Yamaguchi seemed to perk up at that.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue. Meddling older brother.

Speaking of meddling people who thought they needed to protect him - Kuroo had stepped forward, too, with Kenma at his side. Then there were Nishinoya and Tanaka.

And, of course, Hinata with his head high and fists at his side.

Tsukishima felt a little strange, looking at him. There were things about his sister he would never know, something she chose to hide from him, to protect Hinata from the truth. To protect everyone else from that truth, too.

Only Tsukishima did know.

Strange.

He joined his fingertips together, took in the rest of the group. Daichi and Suga would come with, too. No surprises there. With him, that made eleven people.

One of them was still missing.

Yachi better hurry up.

“Ennoshita,” Daichi said, inclining his head towards the man. “Would you do me the honour of leading this camp as long as I’m gone?”

“M-me?”

Narita and Kinoshita jabbed him in the ribs with the elbows from his left and right, which even to Tsukishima seemed a little devious. Rubbing his sides, Ennoshita still looked utterly taken aback.

“After all your hard work and devotion, there’s nobody I trust more to do it. If you feel up to it,” Daichi said, voice warm.

Ennoshita stayed quiet. Kinoshita and Narita kept their elbow jabbing up until he hissed “ _Guys!”_ and shook his head as if trying to get rid of all his scattered thoughts.

“You trust that I can do this?” He asked, seriously.

Daichi’s answer was without a doubt a yes, but got drowned out in all of camp yelling at Ennoshita to stop being a dumbass and say yes. The tips of his ears turning red under the attention, Ennoshita finally accepted, and everyone burst into cheers.

Just as the ruckus had died down, Yachi stumbled through the gathered people and into the inner ring, panting slightly and immediately flustered at the sudden attention on her. She took a deep breath. “I’m coming with, too!”

Then she hunched her shoulders and hurried to go stand next to Hinata, who was the first to make Tsukishima wince by blurting: “What happened to your hair!”

Yachi looked a little like someone had just slapped her. She hadn’t chosen this voluntarily, not exactly. Not at all.

“It’s easier for fighting,” Tsukishima said, shrugging.

“Right, right!” Nishinoya agreed immediately. “That's what took you so long, huh! You're truly devoted, aren't you, Yacchan! Let's do this!”

Nishinoya raised his palms for a high five, and as Yachi went along with it, she shot Tsukishima a grateful glance over Nishinoya's head.

All eyes still on her, she turned back to the circle. “Yeah! I’m ready to fight! We’re going to the palace, right?!” She lifted her fists in an implied fighting stance. “Let’s do it!”

Hinata looked so amazed at her strength and resolve, Tsukishima could almost understand her efforts.

Daichi shot her a warm, proud smile. “That’s the spirit! Yes, we’re doing this. Nobody takes anyone from us and gets away with it! Whether it’s bandits or the King! We will show them what this forest can do!”

Everyone around broke into cheers again, some of which were aimed at Yachi, too - Tsukishima was pretty sure he could hear Tanaka and Nishinoya going on about how cool her hair looked still.

Good.

Yamaguchi looked at Yachi thoughtfully, then back up at Tsukishima. “You found her?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Tsukishima said, simply. “I told you there was no need to worry.”

Yamaguchi exhaled, shoulders relaxing. “Sorry, Tsukki! Whew, I'm glad. So all that's left is fixing things. No matter the cost, right?”

Tsukishima met Yamaguchi’s gaze, uncertainty and resolve dancing in his eyes as usual, never quite settling for one entirely. But, lately, the fire of resolve had grown stronger and stronger.

Had saved Tsukishima's life.

When Tsukishima had stood there, Valentin's blade at his throat, he had not doubted Yamaguchi for a second. Valentin had done a million things that made Tsukishima want to watch him trip and topple down a cliff, but his most stupid mistake had been assuming that Yamaguchi was still who he used to be.

Granted, back then when Yamaguchi had actually still been swayed by spineless, pathetic morons like Valentin tormenting him, Tsukishima would not have anticipated either that he would grow up to be someone quite so remarkable.

Tsukishima had long come to realise his mistake. And Valentin would better, if they met him another time.

“Let’s do this,” Tsukishima replied, voice low, and Yamaguchi nodded, hands curling into fists at his sides.

Suga raised his hand, gaining the attention of the people around gradually. “There’s just … one other problem.”

Everyone fell silent, anticipating the worst. Daichi closed his eyes like a man who knew he was doomed. “It’s the city,” he whispered.

Suga nodded, smile strained. “It’s the city.”

Daichi steeled his shoulders, like he sometimes did when Tanaka and Nishinoya came to confess something, even before he heard what exactly they had done this time. “Fine, fine. Everyone who will join this mission: who of you is currently considered a wanted criminal? Please raise your hand.”

Saeko’s hand shot up. “I’m a wanted criminal, but technically I’m considered dead!” she proclaimed cheerfully, causing Akiteru to send her a horrified look while the others broke into laughter. Daichi sighed.

“Fine. Let's have it your way.” Saeko laughed heartily at Daichi side-eyeing her as he spoke. Tsukishima's sister-in-law was truly something. “Who here is currently considered a wanted criminal or dead according to the records, raise your ha -”

Kuroo’s and Saeko’s hands were already up when Daichi was interrupted. (The guy with the black and white hair, sitting away from them with his group, had raised his hand with enthusiasm as well. Tsukishima furrowed his eyebrows.)

“Daichi -” Suga began, sounding like a man who really did not want to exasperate his husband more, but was forced to. “We’re _technically_ not criminals, but our ruined reputations make us wanted to some extent. We’re kind of … socially considered criminals there.”

Daichi groaned. “Fine! Okay! Now, who is currently considered a criminal in any kind of way which could cause consequences _or_ considered dead according to official records _or_ both,” he added, shooting Saeko a glance, “raise your hand.”

Almost all hands shot up. Daichi groaned again, with so much force Tsukishima was pretty sure he might have popped a blood vessel. Or a couple of them. Daichi pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “This is _exactly_ why we live in a fucking forest.”

By now, everyone except for Daichi was in hysterics. Nishinoya was laughing so hard, he was clinging to Tanaka, others stood with their faces in their hands, shaking with silent laughter. Tsukishima found the situation ridiculous enough to warrant a snort.

“Okay! Okay! Everyone, hands back down,” Daichi called, defeated. “Let’s do it the other way around, it’s faster. Who here is _not_ currently considered a criminal in any way or shape _or_ dead according to official records _or_ both. Please, do me a favour, raise your hands.”

Hinata and Yachi reluctantly raised their hands, looking around nervously.

“I’m honestly not sure whether they consider me missing or dead,” Akiteru admitted.

Tsukishima shared a questioning glance with Yamaguchi, then said: “Neither are we.”

“Same,” was the only word Kenma replied.

Daichi groaned again. “Just fantastic.”

Kuroo didn’t even try to fight his wide grin at this point. “So we probably need a cover-up.”

“No shit, Kuroo,” Daichi replied, causing everyone around to break back into laughter. Then he added, his gaze on Kuroo so he could watch the smile fall from his face: “This calls for a visit at Lady’s.”

Tsukishima grinned at the defeated look of his mentor, who seemed to see his life flashing before his eyes already. Everyone else visibly perked up at the prospect of paying a visit to their old friend.

“We’re doomed,” Kuroo muttered, causing Daichi to laugh.

“Only you,” he told him, clapping his back. “Only you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, a big shout-out to [talonyth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth). Not only is she an incredibly talented writer (check her out!) but also the driving force in fixing this chapter and characterisation, and turning it into something I can be proud of. Thank you! <3 
> 
>  
> 
> As for future updates ... my life at the moment is still pretty harsh, so I can't guarantee the regular updates I'd like to. But I'll work my hardest and promise that no matter how long it takes, this story will keep going.
> 
> And! I've made a twitt account specifically for writing! Not only do I shout about it a lot there, please feel free to talk to me, ask me questions, or throw headcanons my way! :> Come hit me up at [@citruswriting](https://twitter.com/citruswriting)


	7. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which fear is a constant companion of bravery, and awaiting dawn is all that is left to do before everything will change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is the 3rd of May! The two year anniversary of Lwu, and one year anniversary of Lost Crow! <3 
> 
> Frankly, I wish I could have done more. A year ago I certainly hadn't expected to wrap up the prologue only now. A prologue that has been written and rewritten countless times since August. I hadn't expected a lot of things that would happen to me this year, good things and bad.  
> But, I made it! <3 I'm here and healthy and itching to go back to writing after five weeks of hospital time and one week of Exam Hell in which I had to write ... 10 tests in three days. (5 of them today.) 
> 
> So, please accept this humble offer! Again, even if it takes time, I will not abandon this project and there is so, so much to come! I'm burning all over, and I hope I'll be able to bring all my passion to the page!
> 
> And now, enough rambling. Please enjoy! <3

The tulips were budding - the entire garden bursting with fresh life, growing over the rust and skeletons of ruins scattered around the mill. In time, like any customer told her, the wheel of the mill sails would succumb to the rust and the ravages of time, crash into her front yard. Yet another hollow shell to shape her garden.

But if there was one thing Lady trusted in, then it was her mill surviving everything - forces of nature, history being written and rewritten, shifts in politics. Rowdy forest clans.

Ivory decorated half the building, and the bricks had seen better days, but the mill stood tall and proud in all its battered beauty between the bizarre skeletons of buildings and constructions which had been before, now claimed by the wildlife.

This was her home, and Lady felt bubbly joy at returning, neatly squeezed between all the annoyance she felt, also. Had her sister not had such horrible timing for childbirth, Lady's plants would not be tilting their heads, sad at how thirsty they'd gone – _and_ Lady had been forced to skip out on a wedding she had tailored the outfits for! All to see her tiny nephew - certainly a baby. (It was hard to pick an adjective to describe the little one, since the only word Lady could think of was _raisin._ )

Perhaps she could see the appeal in such a small human when it was asleep, and out of smelling vicinity.

As it stood, Lady preferred her children old enough to get flustered or offended at being called a child, and very much capable of feeding and cleaning themselves. Also, able to hold their liquor.

In her mind, she tried to map out her day: sorting through the new fabric she had brought from the city, ignoring the piles of fabrics in the cellar and the attic demanding to be washed or sorted through, half a bottle of wine waiting for her, and other than that, not much excitement.

Well enough.

If only there had not been the figures on the horizon which she spotted just as she was about to pull the door closed behind her. Clicking her tongue, she put her watering can aside, water sloshing against the tin wildly, and grabbed for a sewing kit as well as a piece of wood with a lot of rusty nails through it. If those soldiers thought they could steal her cheese and wine, they had another thing coming. Usually high pitched screaming and waving splintering wood filled with crooked nails chased them away, but that many would perhaps need a couple needles in their skin to get the hint.

Just nestled at the border of the forest, unfortunately Lady did not go quite unseen – well, that would have been bad for business. But still. A lady had to know to protect herself out here, with a king going insane and his soldiers even more so, drunk on their power. This kingdom had no interest in looking out for its people – the only way to secure your own livelihood was to know how to protect anything valuable to you.

With a huff, Lady gathered her skirts and hoped to god (for the soldiers) that she wouldn't ruin those in a fight, because _then_ all hell would break loose. She stomped through her garden, crouching behind a bush which had fought with the remnants of something very rusty for two decades at least, and finally looked like it was winning.

“This place certainly looks interesting,” an unknown voice said, from the back of the group, as they came to a halt at the gate (frankly more of a visible 'don't trespass' than an enforcement of said rule in its rotting, crooked glory). While that voice sounded pleasant enough, Lady's fingers only tightened on her weapon. That was, until -

“Just a friendly piece of advice for your own safety: don't insult The Mill around our hostess.” That was Kuroo's voice! Immediately, Lady dropped her weapon into the grass, wiping her palms clean of its residue on her skirts. “You would greatly regret it,” he added, ever so charming.

Lady burst from her hideout with her smile wide and growing until she showed off all her reasonably healthy teeth.

“ _Holy -_ ” someone cursed, and Lady stumbled half a step back from the sheer _amount_ of people gathered at her gate! It looked like half the forest had made their way to her house. What a joyful combination of beloved faces!

In her hurry to open the gate, Lady almost yanked it out of its hinges. She barely took the time to frown at it, too delighted by the abundance of guests turning a dull day into an exciting quest to conjure enough food and bedding for everyone.

Everyone still looked a little startled at her appearance, but Lady figured they could get over it while she was already welcoming everyone, starting with those closest to her. “Daichi, Suga!” She yanked them down in a half-hug. “You rascals, did you say your vows at last!” She did not bother for an answer, smacking her flat palm on their chests, making Daichi huff dramatically and Suga quirk a grin.

“Kuroo, don't be shy!” She pressed two kisses to his cheeks, enjoying his embarrassed flush. Oh, that Kuroo. If she had been ten years younger! Kenma ducked away, but nodded from a safe distance with Kuroo as a shield for her attention (as usual, a very clever move).

Even more delighted, Lady realised that there were a whole lot of people she didn't know – so many friends to be made, if they knew to keep their hands off her wine. “I'll be getting to all of you later!” she promised, though half the frowns had probably taken it as a threat.

“My goodness, I can't believe you all came to see me!” she exclaimed, clutching her chest. “Saeko! My darling!”

“I was about to get jealous of the others,” Saeko joked and was the one to pull Lady into a hug just like the Tanaka family: sharp, fierce and heartfelt. Lady patted the Tsukishima brothers on their cheeks in passing – Yamaguchi included – ruffled Tanaka's and Nishinoya's hair, and finally whirled to the fledgling crows at the back of the group. Something about them was different, but Lady couldn't put her finger on it, attention snatched by Yachi's dashing new hairstyle!

“How bold!” she exclaimed proudly, smoothing the pads of her fingers over the cropped haircut. Yachi's eyes fell shut, always one to enjoy such affectionate gestures – but something about her expression was off, tightness in her jaw and brows. A pain so raw it could not stay hidden if anything breached mental walls – be that love or hate.

Lady looked around her with sharper eyes, finding all smiles muted by the same particular sorrow.

To Yachi's left, Hinata took a protective little step closer – a gesture Lady had seen in them since they had been little, always finding comfort in each other.

A comfort most needed in trying times.

Even before she knew, Lady's heart felt heavier. Hadn't everyone here faced enough hardship?

“My child,” Lady whispered, cupping Yachi's cheeks gently. “What is the reason you are here?”

Yachi took a deep, shuddering breath. But she met her eyes without fail. “Please,” she said. “We need your help.”

 

 

\---

 

“Hinata!” The boy jerked in place, snapped out of his hollow gaze to nowhere. Lady slammed another plate down next to him, tapping the table with her nails insistently. “Eat more!”

“I'm already full,” he protested weakly, and Lady slammed an additional apple down next to his plate. That was all she could do for him, after all. “After what you've been through, this won't do! Eat!”

Hinata looked like he was about to protest again, but after another stern gaze, he finally complied and dug into the food. Very well.

“You, too!” Lady called across the table, where Tanaka and Nishinoya nodded hastily, not attempting to speak with their stuffed cheeks – well, at least _someone_ was taking the opportunity to replenish their strength before they would go storm the castle, of all things! And the way they talked about it! This insane bunch!

Lady was so touched by their loyalty and bravery, she still adamantly refused compensation. Her pantry was stocked, and it would not hurt to cut back on a little food if times became dire – it would be worth knowing that at least, she had helped these people along.

To go to such lengths to bring Kiyoko and Kageyama back! Again, Lady felt disgusting emotion close up her throat and make her eyes prickle. She tore herself away, barking another command to distract herself. “This is no way to storm a castle, Kuroo!” she called through the doorway. Startled, he almost dropped the plate he was balancing on his knees where he sat awkwardly bent in her armchair.

“This is my second helping,” he pleaded. “And you threatened us with cake, too.”

“And I will feed you personally if I have to!” she added, which made Kuroo wince and take another bite.

Lady nodded, satisfied, and whirled back into the kitchen. “Yachi, my dear, is there anything else you need?” she asked, much more kindly. The girl shook her head, ever so humble and grateful. Lady's heart ached all over for her, mourning the loss of her partner and best friend, keeping up such a strong face.

Hinata, too. All of them. If this had been a story, she might have enjoyed seeing everyone's tireless devotion, rooting for an end that would repay them for all their hope, their anguish, their resolve. But this was no fairy tale, this was the gritty reality. Lady had lived too long and watched too many stories end too abruptly, too bloody, too fast.

The fear and worry she felt for these people scared her. And all she could do to help was fixing up their wardrobe, or changing it entirely – help them blend into the city crowds rather than look like they had stumbled out of a forest.

But of course, in the end, beyond that she was helpless.

Feeling charged with emotion, she snatched for a knife and began cubing cheese, just to have something to do. If only she could march up to that king himself and slap him for thinking he could take these charming, if a little awkward children away and threaten their lives! She would not even take off her rings for that slap!

“That king will bear the marks of my rings for a lifetime,” she growled under her breath, when she felt gentle, but insistent fingers weigh on her wrist, stopping the movement of the knife.

Lady blinked. That cheese did look … very tiny, in a very uneven way. She raised her gaze, meeting Saeko's knowing eyes.

“If I get the chance, I'll punch that king for you,” she said, her tilted mouth a sharp promise.

Lady sighed, rubbing her temple. Her wrist was aching from the force with which she had chopped away. “You're such a reliable girl, and yet I wish you'd be more careful. Don't think you can fool me.”

That took Saeko off guard, which rarely anything managed – Lady felt a little pride, and of course, joy. Saeko looked so happy nowadays. Hopefully, she'd look even happier soon. “Don't worry, don't worry!” Lady patted her cheek, then dropped her hand to tap a rhythm on the wooden counter. Buzzing. That's what she was. “I won't tell anyone. I'll just make some adjustments. But now more than ever, make sure to stay safe, will you?”

Saeko still looked so surprised, but she nodded earnestly and grasped for both of Lady's hands. “I promise you.”

“That's all I need, my dear,” Lady replied, chest swelling with warmth. “You're all such good people. Even for just a night, I'll make sure to take care of you and do as much as I can to help.”

 

\---

 

“Listen. Not the coat. Anything, but not the coat!”

Daichi swatted Suga's impatient hands away. Lady sighed, clutching her chest – torn between fondness and irritation. What a stubborn man indeed.

“Ah, didn't I tell you, Lady?” Suga shrugged dramatically. “There's simply no reasoning with my husband.” He tried to sound somewhat cheerful, but Lady could tell something was brewing inside him. She had a feeling she should send Daichi and him on a long firewood gathering trip to force them to talk this out before it would explode in front of the eyes of everyone.

For now, Daichi was busy clicking his tongue while pulling the coat in question closer around his shoulders, retreating further into his little corner like Suga and Lady were trying to stab his heart, not take an attention calling piece of clothing from him.

Lady sighed. She knew why she had wanted to start with Daichi, her hunch that he would be the most bothersome had been right.

“I'll wear your fancy pants and ankle boots, even -” he tried to reason.

Suga's expression stayed hard and unimpressed, arms crossed and foot tapping on the floor.“They're just regular shoes, Daichi, not every kind of shoe has to be a boot.”

“Listen, you either wear boots or woven sandals for summer, these ankle things don't make any sense – they don't seem able to endure much in the first place!”

“You're not hiking through the forests! We're going to the city!” The tempo of Suga's tapping foot increased, showing annoyance that had yet to seep into his words. Tap-tap-tap.

Lady sighed again.

“We're infiltrating a castle. And if I have to do it in _ankle boots_ , then by the gods I will _keep_ my coat!” Daichi exclaimed, throwing his arms out, and something in Suga's eyes darkened like stormclouds, not just yet ready to unleash lightning and thunder, but a clear warning of what was ahead. Uh-oh.

“Fine, then,” he hissed. “I'm certain a black coat adorned with feathers won't draw attention in the slightest. Then keep it! I couldn't expect you to agree to anything that'd make bringing our kids back easier on us anyways, could I?!”

A flash of hurt quickly swallowed by anger twisted Daichi's face. Lady raised her hands in a pacifying gesture going utterly unnoticed.

“What _you're_ trying to do isn't making this easier on us in the slightest,” Daichi growled. “You're being selfish, and putting us into danger more than anything.”

Suga gestured, sharp and short, anger barely contained. “Oh, and following vague promises of strangers is safe? I'm creating _options_!”

Daichi pushed himself to his feet, roughly wrenching the eyepatch off his face. He threw it on the ground between Suga and him with force, and Lady winced at the cluster of scars around his eye socket. “Last time you tried to create options like that, it cost me a fucking eye,” he snarled. “Just in case you forgot.”

Suga looked down at the eyepatch, then raised his gaze, demeanor terrifyingly calm. “I won't forget any of the things I was forced to do to save your life,” he replied cooly.

Heavy silence fell, the kind that demanded to be broken with a small gesture, just one word showing readiness to reach common ground again.

But neither of them broke it, Suga's expression frozen where Daichi's was livid.

With a huffed, disappointed breath, Suga turned away and to Lady. “I am sorry you had to witness this,” he muttered, inclined his head and left.

Daichi stood, shoulders heaving, anger seeping from him with each ragged breath until he picked up his eyepatch and fell back into the chair with an air of bone-deep fatigue. Lady gathered her skirts and carefully lowered herself on a faded, wobbly chair, crossing her legs. She wiggled the tip of her shoe to an unheard beat until Daichi had tied the eyepatch back on and dropped his hands in his lap.

“I'll take a shot in the dark and assume this was not really about your coat,” she told him.

Daichi snorted, dry and humourless. With his shoulders sunk like this, he seemed both younger and older than he actually was, not quite at home in his own skin. “I _do_ think the clothes I'm supposed to wear are ridiculous,” he tried to joke weakly.

Lady granted him a soft chuckle. “I can never decide whether your stubborness is your biggest virtue or flaw.”

“Usually I like to call it being straightforward and reliable,” Daichi muttered, burying his face in his hands with a weary sigh, fingers smoothing over his temple like he was trying to chase a headache away. “This is the worst possible time to be fighting, and I know that, but the alternative for us is not talking at all, and that's killing me, too.”

“Silence usually makes things like these worse,” Lady agreed, but offered nothing else. She had a feeling what Daichi needed was the chance to get this off his chest with someone neutral who didn't expect him to be a leader to them.

Daichi sighed heavily and sat up straight, dragging his knuckles over his stubble, looking off into the cellar rather than meeting her gaze. “They snatched Kiyoko and Kageyama away right under our noses. And now I'm supposed to lead half my people into a city that's waiting to tear us apart, and then into Shiratorizawa's goddamn castle like it's a stroll through the forest! There are too many variables I don't know, and what if I can't protect them? What if I lose someone else? I've barely slept a wink, the pressure is enough as it is! And then Suga goes ahead and wants us to take a merry trip to his goddamn _parents,_ too!” Daichi brought his fist down on the armrest of his chair, teeth grinding together and brows knotted. “Wouldn't the city and the castle be enough of a risk?! No, let's go back to these bastards who caused most of our pain already and ask them to add insult to injury! Just fantastic!” Daichi shook his head, sinking back into fatigue after his outburst, voice rough and small. “Is it too much to ask not to be in mortal peril for once? I'm getting too old for all this, I swear to god.”

“When you say it like that you're making _me_ feel old,” Lady murmured softly. She reluctantly patted his big, rough hand twice. “It's alright to feel angry and tired, Daichi. I doubt anyone would want to conquer what has been shoved at you and your family. … did you tell Suga that you feel tired and scared, as well?”

Daichi grit his teeth, definitely looking guilty. Lady sighed. “Tell him how you _really_ feel, under all your huffy puffy manly anger. And then listen to him. And at least make sure to get some rest while you are here. A high strung, snappy leader won't do anyone any good.”

“For someone who hates kids so much you sure act like a mother,” Daichi muttered, making Lady gasp in offense.

“I don't hate children! I just prefer my distance from them. And now, let me fetch you a glass of my good wine while you relax and I'll bore you into slumber with suggestions for your wardrobe.”

“How good is your good wine?” Daichi asked, definitely interested.

“Better than anything you have ever tasted in your life, my dear.”

 

\---

 

“You know,” she told him later, much later – after all had been settled on and fitted, after bickering and measurements taken, and before she would go to work all night on what still needed to be sewn. Right when Daichi was still trying to work up his courage to confront Suga. “You are going to be fine. You and Suga, and everyone else, too. You will be okay.”

“How do you know?” Daichi had asked, and for the first time in her life, Lady had felt grateful for the wrinkles granting her the authority of experience that came with the years she had on all of them.

“Because I know you, and I know everyone else,” Lady replied, smiling. “If you set your mind to it, you could change this entire country.”

Daichi chuckled, lifting his face. He still looked rugged, but there was a smile in his eyes. “Now, now, let's not get too enthusiastic – dethroning a king is not on the agenda.”

Lady laughed. “Fine, fine! Then just bringing Kiyoko and Kageyama back! That's already enough. And, you go tell Suga what you feel, understood? Communication is key.”

Daichi shook his head, heaved a big sigh, before he pushed himself up, hunching his shoulders as he had done all day without his coat. “I feel naked,” he cursed under his breath.

“I do feel a little scandalised,” Lady replied, and they grinned at each other.

Yes, they would be fine.

All of them.

Lady just had to believe that.

 

\---

 

Yachi sat with her hands between her knees, at the edge of the veranda, looking out over the gardens. Night was falling, but in the dim light she could still see the figures rushing over the grass and between the rusty metal, twisting their bodies. Their voices carried over clearly, though most of them were still foreign to her ears, barely linked with a face, let alone a name.

But her brother's silhouette she would recognise anywhere.

“I'm getting tired just watching them.”

The voice startled her, footsteps too quiet behind her for her to pick up on it. Perhaps she was too drained, sleep did not come easily to her. Yachi barely managed to squeeze some hours in.

Nightmares were her unwelcome companion lately.

Tsukishima sat down next to her, a safe distance away, long limbs stretched out, feet reaching the grass easily. Oddly enough, his quiet company soothed Yachi. For a split second she felt the urge to tip over, lean against him and close her eyes. She was so unbearably tired.

“But it's nice seeing him work so hard, isn't it?” she mumbled, not forcing herself to put cheer into her words for pretense's sake. Tsukishima had been right, it was pointless with him.

Strange, how breathing around him had become so much easier after he had seen Yachi at her worst, and still accepted her.

Even when this newfound sense of companionship came with a high price, she cherished it.

“That idiot's probably gonna pass out and drool the second he stops moving,” Tsukishima muttered, eyes following Hinata's wild, whooping run away from … Komi ? … who was really just chasing him by now.

A second later, Tsukishima averted his gaze, as if simply watching really did drain his energy.

It made Yachi's lips curl into a little smile. Some things never changed. But her expression melted as quickly as it had bloomed, when she thought of the unbearably slow hours of the night ahead, just lurking to shove shadows and nightmares her way. Ruthless. She shuddered, even though she was bundled up against the cool night air.

“When I can't sleep, I solve equations in my head,” Tsukishima muttered, voice low as if he had to hide his obvious kindness from himself so he could rest assured people still assumed he was kind of a dick. Which, Yachi had found, he really wasn't. Not when it mattered.

“Math?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. While his advice was sweet, she was not sure she'd be able to follow it through.

“It keeps the thoughts at bay,” he answered, and that was all he seemed ready to share.

It was enough.

More than that, honestly.

“I'll give it a try,” she replied warmly, touched by his concern. “Thank you.”

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, and Yachi giggled, a sound that slipped from her without stinging in her throat. Gaining a friend was a nice thing, no matter the circumstances, and as she sat out on the veranda while night tipped into a deep blue just shy of black, she did not think of what lay ahead.

She did not think of how when Suga and Daichi entered a room, neither looked at the other.

For once, she did not even wonder whether Kiyoko and Kageyama were able to see the same moon hanging thinly in the sky.

Her thoughts rested with the slow rise and fall of Tsukishima's chest next to her, Hinata's rattling breath as he stumbled past her. Kuroo and Yamaguchi, dropping their firewood at the edge of her vision, knocking their heads together in their haste to pick it up.

The voices she could hear from inside the house – the booming hues of the Tanaka siblings, laced with Akiteru's deeper, gentler tone. Nishinoya's muffled laughter.

Right now, she filled her lungs with the cool night air and nothing felt impossible.

 

\---

 

It did not take Fukurodani long to give up on the training, considering how fast night fell.

Yachi was just helping along trying to lie bedding out in the living room, not expecting much comfort for so many people dropping by without a warning. And still, it felt like more of a home than camp had felt – without two people so vital to her happiness. Whenever she caught Nishinoya's gaze across the room, he sent her an encouraging smile, Yamaguchi had passed out despite the commotion still around him and Tsukishima sat a little off to his side like a guardian, head tilted back and eyes closed. Yachi was almost certain he had fallen asleep like that.

The room was dimly lit and filled with soothing quiet. It took Yachi off guard how quiet all the owls could be if they wanted to. Frankly, their volume still scared her – especially their leader seemed utterly unpredictable. But he wasn't here right now, anyways. Perhaps that was the key to the mystery. The others were rustling about trying to get comfortable, mindful of those already succumbing to sleep.

Kaori caught her gaze, and her heartfelt smile instantly put Yachi more at ease. She ducked her head with a smile that wouldn't fade, and almost ran into someone, unable to keep in her screech and dropping the accumulation of towels and blankets and thick fabrics.

It was Hinata, who bent down to pick it up, his mob of hair all Yachi could see for a second. Somehow, just seeing him put her a little more at ease, too.

Just his presence made breathing feel easier, too.

How lucky she was to have him at her side still. She'd almost lost him, too, and when Yachi thought of that it sent a shiver down her spine.

Hinata clearly wanted to speak with her, but showed no trouble staying silent for as long as they took them to set up the rest of the beddings and two places to sleep of their own they would be able to return to without much commotion, as everyone in the room was slowly starting to settle in for the night.

One last night in the comfort of a warm house and with a full stomach, before they would head into the unknown.

Yachi made sure to steel her shoulders before she followed Hinata outside into the night, feeling a nauseating pang of déjà-vu as she did so. She'd been so much younger, when they used to come here and stay the night, in need of new clothes and too impatient to sleep just yet while the adults were still talking boring things.

Everything had been so much simpler then, and more complicated, too.

How strange, that once, Yachi had been paralysed by fears back when she had been younger, even though nothing had come to harm her or the people dear to her. And now that it threatened to take everything she held dear away, suddenly, she could face it with her head held high.

Even when it was pretense, even when she felt scared -

Still, she was moving onwards. A reluctant sense of pride welled up inside her, joining the fear aching in her throat. Fear, pride, determination. That would have to be enough.

All she knew for now was that her brother looked much more stable, himself, worn out as he was. And that she would do everything in her power to protect him, and everyone else, and to bring back those she had lost.

And if that meant she had to become a warrior, so be it. She would cut her hair, cut anything pretty away and make room for practicality, anything she needed to shape herself into someone who could stand against all the fears eating her up from the inside. All her life, people had looked after her, protected her.

It was time to repay them tenfold.

“Hey, Yacchan?” Hinata asked, voice strangely quiet. After expecting an excited rant about his training, Yachi fell into step beside him with a heavy twinge of her heart. His voice sounded so utterly lonely, she reached out to lace their fingers together.

Hinata squeezed her hand gratefully and stayed silent. They came to a halt not far from the house, illuminated by the lanterns barely enough to see the tension in his shoulders.

“What is it?” she whispered, feeling like she had asked that question a hundred times. They'd been through so much together, her brother and her, so they would make it through this, too. Somehow.

Hinata stayed quiet for so long, Yachi was afraid to lose him to darker places again – the places his mind would wander when his gaze turned unfocused, fists clenched in his lap, jaw tense and posture rigid.

“How is your training?” she asked, just to keep him with her, in this moment, rather than allow him to conjure terrifying scenarios for a future that was yet to be decided. She knew best how important it was to be protected of one's own mind, sometimes.

“It's … fun.” Hinata's voice sounded more like a sigh. “It's fun when I'm moving. Does that make sense?”

Yachi squeezed his hand, and with his next sigh, some of the tension melted from Hinata's shoulders. “I hate overthinking.” He rubbed at the side of his face, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “I'm not made for so many _thoughts_ and stuff.”

“I know what you mean,” Yachi said, her voice dropping lower without her meaning to. “I get it,” she added, words ringing so true they hit her to the core, made her breath hitch. Of course she understood. “But there is no choice but to keep moving, is there?”

“Ah, you're right!” Hinata shook his head, something in Yachi's voice seemingly pulling his spine straighter, making his chin raise in defiance of the true feelings brewing inside him. Honestly, it felt like a miracle to her. “You're just so damn awesome, Yachi. I wish I could be as strong as you. But you're right! I'll keep moving and I'll have fun learning from Bokuto and Komi and I'll grow strong enough to protect everyone I care about.” When his eyes met hers this time, they looked bright, even just as glint in the dark. “Thanks! Jeez, I was losing my head there.”

Yachi's lips curled into a wide, wobbly smile. She felt warm and proud, that a few words of hers could be enough to inspire such a change in Hinata. Even if her so called strength felt artificial, more like an act than actual characteristic, if it managed to make a change – then who was to tell her it wouldn't be enough?

“You're pretty awesome yourself,” Yachi told him, smiling. “You've always inspired me to become stronger and work hard! So for once, it might be my turn.”

Hinata did not reply – he dropped her hand, feet stumbling closer. As her brother crushed her in a warm hug, all Yachi could do was squeeze him back and ignore the tears forming in her eyes from the affection that made her chest ache with its intensity.

They stood like this, in peace, in synch – until something cut through the silence of the night. It was instinct, the way they jerked apart and into stance, shoulder to shoulder, slowly making their way towards the source of commotion.

Their sneaking was rendered useless, though, when the voice cut through the night. Suga, loud and desperate, an edge to his voice that shot terror through Yachi in a way that took her utterly off guard.

“You didn't even protect yourself!”

As they peered at the two figures, the way they stood – Yachi understood what that noise had been. A fist connecting with skin and muscle and bone. Daichi, hunched over and holding his cheek, and Suga before him, panting, fist still curled.

“I didn't expect you to _punch_ me,” Daichi replied, his voice carrying the betrayal he felt so clearly, it made another wave of vertigo run through Yachi's body. This was – wrong. They weren't supposed to fight, why would Suga -

“You don't take me seriously. I told you I would punch you, and you didn't make a single move to dodge it. If you can't even listen to a threat, how will you listen to anything else I have to tell you?” Suga spat those last words, sneering in a way that Yachi was certain she had never been meant to see. She wished she could make it unseen, could scratch it all from her mind. “Don't tell me you'll listen if you can't follow up on your word.”

“I _want_ to listen!” Daichi shouted it with a desperation that made Yachi reach out to grasp for Hinata's shoulder, needing to be steadied. “But you're making it impossible!”

“No,” Suga replied, turning to leave. “ _You_ are making it impossible.”

“Wait -” Daichi choked out, a broken syllable somewhere between a command and a plea. But with a noise that sounded just as broken up, Suga steeled his shoulders and hurried off, away from the house.

Hinata met Yachi's gaze, and they didn't need to speak to know what the other thought.

While Hinata turned to rush after Suga, Yachi slowly made her way over to where Daichi had dropped down into the grass, head in his hands.

How strange. How many times had she been the one sitting defeated and hopeless, comforted by this man who was as much of a father to her as Hinata was a brother? But now it was her to embrace him and hold him, trying to offer comfort even when she had no words to tell him, no heart to force him to speak about what was going on.

Daichi held onto her so tightly it made her ribs hurt, and yet, Yachi did not mind.

“I'm sorry,” he choked out, and Yachi held him so fiercely, her arms started trembling.

“Don't be,” she replied, voice even, strong. “There's no need to.”

There wasn't. She'd never mourn to have grown up to realise how broken this world could be, when being an adult meant that for once, she could comfort Daichi in turn.

Somehow, it made her feel strong.

Somehow, they would be alright.

Somehow, somehow.

 

 

\---

 

 

“What's on your mind?”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto exclaimed, eyes wide. “You startled us!”

Akaashi looked at Konoha fast asleep in Bokuto's lap, unimpressed. “He looks terrified.”

“I'm sure he was.” Bokuto's voice was a hush now, and he gently rested his hand on the man's shoulder, who sighed, but stayed undisturbed. Like anything could disturb Konoha's sleep anymore, now that he was used to being around guys like Bokuto and Komi all hours of the day.

Deciding not to grace the comment with a reply, Akaashi simply sat down next to Bokuto. He may not have known the man as long as Konoha had, but Akaashi liked to think still that he knew how to handle such fragile moods of his, how to support him. Or at the very least, when Bokuto needed him.

So Akaashi leaned into him, a slight touch, just to make Bokuto feel the warmth of his presence. Maybe, to feel it in turn.

With each new day, the restlessness Akaashi felt grew stronger, pressure adding and adding on. When morning came they would leave the mill of this eccentric person behind and head back towards the city, towards a leader waiting for them to return. A leader who must have realised by now what chance had been offered to them, that they had to act, now or never.

Everything they had worked so hard for the past years … every single mistake in their planning would come back to break them, so many possibilities and no way to run anymore. Their chess board was set up, and they lacked half the pieces to close in on the king and make the queen fall with him – and frankly, Akaashi was not so certain anymore whether it had been such a good idea to bring the no doubt brilliant, but volatile forces of the forest into this game.

They had the power to tip the balance – whether for better or worse, nobody could say. Akaashi closed his eyes and tried to breathe calmly, tried not to think of what failure would mean. Of all the things that could go wrong.

Bokuto wrapped an arm around him, and Konoha started snoring slightly in his sleep, and for just this moment, Akaashi tried to clear his mind of all relentless planning, thinking, honing.

It was a privilege, to have so much at stake. Not only Bokuto and Konoha, no. Every last one of the Owls he would trust with his life, depend on – and wanted to protect.

He was lucky for it, and cursed, because taking risks would have been so much easier with nothing to lose.

“I feel like I'm lying to them,” Bokuto sighed, breaking the silence. He sounded so small, speaking about his – their new friends. Acquaintances. Akaashi had vowed to try not to grow too attached, keep his distance, but everyone else …

Akaashi exhaled, turning his head so he could nuzzle Bokuto's neck, feel proximity as a simple comfort.“We're not lying to them. We're giving them exactly what they need and ask for – a way to get into the castle.” It was the truth, plain and simple. “He's succeeded before, in getting into the castle.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto muttered, but he did not sound satisfied. “But last time, it nearly cost his life. And this time -” He cut himself off.

“Telling them now would only shake them further. They suffered great loss, let's give them the chance to pull themselves back together first. We'll tell them when the time is right.”

“It just feels … wrong.”

Akaashi hated it, when Bokuto sounded so much smaller than he was, voice dull even when he was so bright, so … much.

“I'm sorry. I'm not happy with the situation, either, but …”

“It's for the greater good,” Bokuto sighed. A sentence etched into all their minds tirelessly, so deep they would live and die by it.

Akaashi thought of the king, and the queen who was truly controlling the chess pieces, no doubt realising what was happening at the other edge of the board. Preparing to strike.

He thought of the fate of so many people, all the suffering in this country.

For the greater good, he could not be swayed by emotion and wishes, no matter how much he would long for it. Revolution called for sacrifice. There would be no change without it, and finally, after so long, Akaashi could feel it in the air, waiting, breathless -

For the greater good.

Change would come, and they would guide it, no matter the cost.

For the greater good.

Akaashi closed his eyes, relishing in Bokuto's warmth and Konoha's breathing, no longer the even breaths of a sleeping man. He was awake, had perhaps listened to them for a while without a need to add a single word. Like this, they kept their silence, sitting vigil for everything they would leave behind when dawn came.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this wraps up the prologue! Holy shit, that's a long prologue.  
> Next up: our first intermission! I'm burning 


	8. Fire in the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a prince and his two knights only ever wanted to keep each other safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eurovision lets me down with a lot of things but never with [Lost crow hymns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eGTRvqcREaQ).
> 
> Before you head into this chapter I want to say that this is where the story actively starts dealing with death and its consequences. It's a big theme in the story and I hope to show that there is healing after the shock and hurt of loss, maybe even peace. But not everyone wants to deal with that topic, so I'm kindly asking you to look after yourself here and decide whether you want to keep going or not.

_12 years ago_

 

“But Tooru will be mad.”

Tobio pretended so hard that he didn’t want to tag along, but his eyes were wide with hope and excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I’ll whack him across the head if he is,” Hajime promised, ruffling Tobio’s hair, satisfied at the huge grin it got him in turn. “C’mon now! Let’s sneak up on him and he’ll see what he missed when he didn't team up with you first!”

Tobio giggled so much he started hiccuping when he stumbled after Iwaizumi, effectively ruining their cover as they approached the pavilion where Tooru was waiting, kicking his feet with two wooden swords in his lap, but leaping from the bench as soon as he saw them approach.

“Who dares attack my Kingdom!” Tooru declared, dramatically raising his own sword as Hajime's slipped from him in his haste, hitting the ground with a cluttering noise. Oh, he would pay for that.

“It’s us!” Tobio shouted, getting really into the whole (not) sneak attack thing.

“We’re here to claim your throne!” Hajime called, trying to make his voice boom as much as possible. The badass impression would've worked better with his sword in hand, but Hajime did have a secret weapon with him. “I brought my best knight to bring you down!”

“Uwaah!” Tobio sneakily glanced around him in search of the mysterious knight even when it was clear that he was hoping it might be him. Iwaizumi put a hand on his head, smiling down fondly at the overexcited kid. “It’s you!”

Tobio’s mouth fell open, practically starry-eyed at the prospect of being Iwaizumi’s best knight. Always so earnest, and oozing with admiration - Hajime couldn’t understand at all why Tooru had to be such a baby about Tobio tagging along most times. Sure, sometimes he cried, but most times it was fun with him, even when he was younger.

Besides, the little servant kid had always looked at them so longingly as he had watched them play. It was only natural to invite him along eventually. His teacher had said shared laughter only meant more laughter … or something. Hajime hadn't really listened that particular day, too impatient to get outside and play instead.

Tobio shifted into a determined stance just as Tooru raised the wooden sword over his head and started whirling it around, slashing the air wildly. “Don’t come near me! I’ll fight for my kingdom to my last breath!”

Hajime rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “Go get him,” he told Tobio, who shot off like an arrow, arms sticking out to the sides like he was trying to fly and mouth open in a continuous scream that Tooru joined in on as he saw the danger approach. Too mindful of Tobio to whack a kid smaller than him with his sword, all he did was keep waving it into the air hoping to ward him off like that. Hajime grinned as he watched, because Tobio didn’t hesitate for even a second, only slammed into Tooru, wrapping both arms around his waist tightly, and they both went down in a screeching pile.

“I got him, I got him!” he squealed excitedly, while Tooru tried to push him off in futile struggle.

“A monster! A monster has gotten me!”

Tobio tried to growl like a monster, but he was laughing so hard it ruined the entire effort. Hajime got caught up in watching and laughing for a bit, before he remembered his original purpose, slowly approaching his trapped best friend. Tooru stopped wailing and struggling when he saw the expression on Hajime’s face, eyes widening in terror.

“No, no, no!” he shouted, shoving at Tobio’s face who pressed back into his palm like a dog aggressively asking for affection. “No tickliiiiiiing!”

Hajime showed no mercy.

  
  


“You’re the worst,” Tooru wheezed later, hair sticking up at odd angles and cheeks flushed from breathless, helpless laughter and choked up pleas for mercy. “Don’t touch my sword, Tobio!”

Tobio withdrew his hands immediately, folding them in his lap all proper, but his lip jutted out in defiance. Hajime glared at Tooru who was pouting just the same, despite his couple years over the other boy. Then he shuffled his own sword over to lie before Tobio’s knees. “You can take mine.”

But Tobio only pouted more, shaking his head. “No!”

“Rude!” Tooru exclaimed, jutting his pointer finger out. “See, Hajime, he doesn’t deserve it in the first pla-”

“Hajime needs to be a knight, too!” Tobio shouted, and blinked. He had probably meant to keep his voice lower than that, but in his unexpected passion, it had gotten away from him. His cheeks were flushed and he didn’t dare meet their gaze, looking genuinely upset.

“Why?” Hajime asked, before Tooru could needle him for it instead. Tobio had a simple mind, simple words where Tooru was flurries of them and constantly trying to turn them over this way and that to give them more weight or less. That would only leave Tobio more confused and keep him quietly pondering rather than speaking.

“‘Cause Tooru will be king and then he needs knights! And you can be the head of them, and I'll be his best knight!”

Tobio’s brows were furrowed with his resolve and determination, and Hajime didn’t miss Tooru’s open expression, genuinely taken off guard as he looked at the boy before him. Pleased surprise urged the most honest smiles from him.

“My dumb big brother is gonna be king anyways!” Tooru called boisterously, a futile attempt at hiding how much Tobio's words meant to him. “Stupid Ushiwaka! But -” And at that, his eyes were sparkling, and Tobio was staring at him in awe. “I can’t say I wouldn’t like to be a super great king!”

Hajime sat back in the grass, feeling electrified by the thought. It wasn't hard to imagine Tooru as a king - a person so clearly born for greatness.

Tooru was huge, rolling tears for a scraped knee and whimpering without the stars and moon illuminating the darkness when it was cloudy. But he was also this - buttersoft pleasantries to wrap nobles around his finger and ease from them what he wanted with nothing but the bat of his eyelashes, eyes blazing with a passion Hajime had never seen in any of their peers, persuasive in his ideas and dreams so much so that Hajime could feel himself burn along with him. Already, he was different from the other children Hajime knew, and if that difference was rooted in his royal blood or something that was simply _Tooru_ Hajime had never been able to tell.

And here it was, Tobio's vision: Hajime taking up arms to support his best friend in the world and a king who would no doubt make this world a better place, leading the knights - one of them being Tobio himself. Hajime's mind was running away with him, imagining them all older and wiser and infinitely more badass, and Hajime would be taller than Tooru, and Tobio would still look up to him when Hajime would teach him everything he needed to know to be a knight.

And it would be a perfect world. Ushiwaka would just resign the throne so Tooru could step up and take it because a person like him was just meant to be right on top of the world, and even the crown prince had to see that.

Hajime listened to Tooru rile Tobio up with a million stupid questions - “How are you gonna be my best knight when Hajime’s the head knight?! Isn’t the head knight the best knight, Tobio!” “I'll be the best anyways - !” - and he could feel himself smile.

This week, he would start his training to become a knight in the first place, and it felt like the first leap towards that dazzling dream.

Right there, with the taste of grass and earth in the air, Hajime felt almighty in all his childish wonder, the future such a bright and huge and powerful thing that he couldn't wait to grow up.

  
  


\---

  
  


Oikawa looked worn down, dark rings under his eyes, but fury and worry made his gaze burn as he strode into the room, carrying himself with his air-of-something-more, with a certain sense of power that turned this whole situation into a solvable problem rather than a catastrophe Iwaizumi was forced to watch helplessly.

This was not the person Iwaizumi still referred to as _Tooru_ in a quiet corner of his mind – Tooru-before-loss, the round and soft child which had long begun to disappear under jagged edges and with time passing from the features of his face.

It was sharper now, more dangerous. More cracked.

Oikawa now.

Back on that godforsaken day, even before Tooru had told him about his mother, Iwaizumi had felt this strange fear – that nothing would ever be the same again, the loss of something vital, something that could not be recovered. Innocence, perhaps.

He felt it again now. Like there was Oikawa-after-loss, a changed person, there would be Tobio-after-loss.

Iwaizumi could only vaguely grasp how big the consequences of this would be, but the dread filling him was mirrored in Oikawa's darkening expression as his gaze flitted to the closed door and back to Iwaizumi. “What exactly happened?” he asked. Prince voice, filled with power – the power to change things, move mountains, stop rainfall or Tobio from hurting.

Just the latter was all that Iwaizumi would ask for.

“Did you hear the rumours?” he asked, cautious. Praying he wouldn't have to be the one to tell Oikawa about it, unable to put it into words. Tobio's eyes, clear as the summer sky, excitement making them shine as he listened to Iwaizumi with rapt attention – this child was not to be reconciled with the blood-dripping horror of the rumours.

“Of course I heard them,” Tooru spat. He clenched and unclenched his fists. “And we both _know_ they’re bullshit.”

Iwaizumi only nodded, fists clenched at his sides. He hadn't known how badly he needed someone else to confirm it for him, that Tobio would never -

Tooru went right up to the door, banging his fist against it. “Tobio! Open up or we’ll break it down!”

“Go away!” Tobio shouted, voice a mess. He was obviously crying, had been from the second he had stumbled blindly into this room. Iwaizumi’s fingers dug half-moons into his palms. Tobio-after-loss. What would he be like? How much would he change?

There was no way they could leave Tobio-suffering-loss to his own devices right now.

“Step aside,” Iwaizumi said, and Oikawa complied swiftly, watching with lips pressed together as Iwaizumi unsheathed his sword and shattered the lock with its hilt carelessly. He opened the door for Oikawa to stride in first, following at his shoulder, half a step behind to watch his back - comfortable routine in the middle of their world cracking.

At the edge of the room, Tobio lay curled into himself so tightly it looked painful, sobbing uncontrollably. “No,” he begged, more sound than word in his desperation.

As if Iwaizumi would leave him on his own like this. He loved this kid too much, and so did Oikawa, no matter how idiotic he acted about admitting as much. But when Iwaizumi walked over and gently rested a hand on his shoulder, Tobio lashed out like a wounded animal, pushing Iwaizumi away, voice shattering. “Don’t _touch me!”_

Iwaizumi fell backwards, blinking for a moment. Wincing as he saw Tobio stare at the traces of blood he had left on Iwaizumi's tunic, then down at his own soiled hands, and then break into noises and sobs even more pitiful than before. His cries were unbearable, void of hope and filled with nothing but pain and fear.

Oikawa rested a hand on Iwaizumi's shoulder, soothing in the midst of this nightmare, and settled next to him, slightly away from Tobio. His gaze told Iwaizumi what he needed to hear: _I'll take care of it._

Iwaizumi simply nodded, trusting his friend to know what could help, here.

“Tobio,” Oikawa said, at once calm and insistent. Intense without being overbearing. “Tell me what happened.”

Tobio sobbed and shook his head wildly, pressing himself against the wall like he was hoping to fall through it and vanish.

“I know it wasn’t your fault,” Oikawa said, words certain. With rapt attention, he watched as Tobio fell quiet for a second, before another sob tore from his throat forcefully. “It was,” he forced out, again shaking his head. “I’m a m-monster.”

“They forced you, didn't they?” Oikawa asked, unrelenting.

Tobio nodded, barely noticable, and then the door to the main room got thrown open.

It was a heartbeat, reflex. Pure instinct.

The door hit the wall and when it bounced back, Oikawa had already shoved himself before Tobio, Iwaizumi standing with his sword drawn before the both of them, the tip of it a the neck of the head knight herself. Slowly, she put her finger to the tip of it and Iwaizumi lowered it, begrudgingly sheathing it.

This was not his fight to fight.

Oikawa stepped forwards, his blade charisma and diplomacy. Iwaizumi stepped back to shield the whimpering Tobio from the five soldiers, all with their weapons drawn.

“Now, now,” Oikawa said, spreading his arms as if there were flowers pointed at him, not weapons. “No need to barge into my chambers and annoy a prince, is there?” Low like this, his voice was no longer a threat concealed, but a dagger glinting in daylight. “I would advise you to leave right now and this won't have to get ugly.”

“I have direct orders from the king himself to seize this boy. He has murdered another child. Clearly your royal blood does not make you a judge standing above principles of morality, Prince.”

Iwaizumi reached to unsheathe his sword again, stopped by a feathersoft touch of fingertips on his wrist. “We'll have to find another way to fix this,” Oikawa muttered, only audible for Iwaizumi, and stepped aside with a storm in his eyes.

“We will,” Oikawa promised urgently, fingers iron shackles wound tightly around Iwaizumi's wrist now, the only thing keeping him from attacking the knights he served along as they dragged away the sobbing child.

Iwaizumi had never loathed himself more than in that moment, where he could do nothing but watch.

 

\---

  
  


“Tooru!” Wakatoshi called behind him.

“Not now!” he snapped, speeding up. Oikawa had neither the time nor the patience to deal with his brother right now.

But Wakatoshi only followed him stubbornly. “I need to talk to you.”

“I need to talk to our father!” Oikawa turned, with a cold smile on his lips. “By all means, crown prince, the king is still above you.”

Wakatoshi looked at him, expression unreadable. Infuriating in how calm he remained, while Oikawa had just watched Tobio dragged away, only beginning to grasp the scheme that had started unravelling, Tobio a puppet made to dance and kill.

“I’m still your brother. I’m concerned for you.”

“For me?” Oikawa huffed a bitter laugh. “How touching, but as long as I can be remotely useful to him, our father won't kill me, too, don't you worry. _”_

Wakatoshi’s brows furrowed, in that disappointed kind of way. The you're-being-difficult kind of way. The way he always looked, lately, when he tried to speak with Oikawa and refused to respect or even hear any of his words in the first place.

Wakatoshi had lost his mother too early to even know her, so his stepmother – Oikawa's mother – had _been_ the only mother to him, to the both of them. That made it so unacceptable that Wakatoshi mourned her without questions.

An accident. Their mother had been the opposite of clumsy, never a faltering step or unsteady balance. She had walked with the grace of a true queen, even though she had been born in the city.

And one night, she had fallen down the stairs. Been found at their edge by a servant come morning.

“The court is talking about you, Tooru,” Wakatoshi proceeded as if Oikawa had never spoken.

“Oikawa,” he corrected icily.

“Oikawa,” Wakatoshi repeated, the name like a child's idea from his mouth. “I respect that you have chosen mother's maiden name -” Yeah, right. “But I think it would have been in her interest, too, that you rethink how you conduct yourself in this palace.”

The nerve. That Wakatoshi had dared to bring mother into this -

“The court is talking about you, your attachment. They are not happy with a future advisor and representative of this court protecting a murderer, especially in the face of more pressing manners.”

“I am not -” Oikawa cut himself off. Technically, he was. Technically, Tobio had killed another child, but.

Oikawa had sat in the dungeon with him, eased the story out of him, curled up in the furthest corner of the stone prison while shaking, from nerves and cold and fear.

If Oikawa had no right to protect a boy with eyes as bright as the sky forced into horrendous crimes, who had never used the word “monster” again but so clearly carried it etched into his heart - then how did this entire court justify protecting the king pulling the strings behind so many crimes? There was only one true murderer here, and everyone bowed to him, appealed to him.

But how could Oikawa make Wakatoshi see the perfidious plans of their father to turn an orphaned child into a pawn with teeth, a weapon to be moved and used at will – when Wakatoshi still believed their mother had fallen down a flight of stairs, oh so strangely the exact night after she had been seen in the city with a stranger?

A tragic incident, the oblivious assumed.

A punishment born from the king's jealousy, the rumour hungry court knew to whisper behind conspiring hands raised before their mouths – juicy, tragic, yet somewhat deserved – after all, who would be stupid enough to be caught cheating on their spouse when it was the blood thirsty king of Shiratorizawa himself?

Oikawa had never believed in either of these options – that stranger … his mother did not have an affair with him, Oikawa knew the same way he had known it had been his father's doing as soon as he heard of his mother's passing.

For a simple affair to be her demise, Oikawa's mother had been too smart, too keen, too _perceptive._

Perhaps she had been a spy. Uncovered the web of lies and intrigues, all the dirty underhand deals and bloodshed – uncovered what Oikawa was only beginning to see.

Maybe rebelling against that dangerous unbalance of power had been in his blood all along – maybe that was the difference between Wakatoshi and him. A certain sense not given through nurturing, but inherited by blood.

“You wouldn't understand,” Oikawa admitted, words so heavy he felt weary from their weight.

Each day, the chasm between the brothers – half brothers, but never before had it been so clear, mattered so blatantly – grew deeper, more menacing, unforgiving, unbreachable.

How much longer?

Oikawa could never shake the feeling that time was running out.

“Perhaps. All I am asking of you is to be compliant -” Wakatoshi read the sharp furrow of disdain in Oikawa's brows, rephrasing swiftly with a sentence only a fraction less outrageous: “Accept the decisions without making your opinions heard for everyone down to the servant quarters. It will treat your position and battered reputation better. In the face of impending war, now more than ever, this court needs to work together for an image of unwavering strength.”

Startled by Wakatoshi's _blindness,_ Oikawa laughed into his face. His brother's pragmatism truly served as the straps to keep Wakatoshi's blinkers strapped to his head, walking only the straight line he could see, never caring whether that path meant walking over killed mothers, scared children forced to kill, the despair of an entire kingdom.

Oikawa had long forced himself to see all this, and slowly come to realise what a futile struggle it was to try and yank the blinkers away from Wakatoshi.

“What decisions?” he asked, numb with dread.

“To send the boy away.”

Oikawa's eyes fell closed, hit at once by how powerless he was. Had he not sworn to Tobio that he would save him from this hell, protect him? Yet nothing he had done bore any fruit, no better than a liar with all his unkept promises.

In that moment, Oikawa realised two things:

If he truly wanted to save those in the path of a relentless king, he had to _become_ a king.

And even when he killed his father, Wakatoshi would not surrender the throne he had been raised for, not as long as he lived.

Oikawa looked up at his brother – too complicated in his simplicity, too stubborn to falter when it would be adequate, an explained enigma Oikawa would never grasp.

A part of him hated this man, and still – Oikawa would never be able to kill him. All these realisations hit him in a matter of seconds, like the beautiful art his mother used to create with colourful dominos, the only play she allowed herself and awed her sons with. They stones would seem random, mismatched and arranged without sense until the first stone was tipped over, pulling the next with it, a cascade of colours falling and revealing a bigger picture.

The first obstacle was the king himself.

Oikawa smiled.

It was met with a pensive expression by Wakatoshi, clearly aware of the shift, of the volatile nature the idea in Oikawa's head bore, but their lack of full understanding went both ways. Wakatoshi remained unable to gauge the sheer magnitude of Oikawa's decision. For the better.

They parted without another word, Oikawa's heart picking up pace with each time the thought rang in his mind, over and over: _I will kill the king, I will kill the king, I will kill the king._

 

\---

 

Oikawa pressed his palm over his friend's mouth, the white of Iwaizumi's eyes flying open a brighter spot in dim darkness.

Slowly, Oikawa raised a finger to his lips, and backed out of the knight's quarters, an unseen shadow.

Barely a couple of heartbeats enveloped by the fresh night air, Iwaizumi appeared behind him, haphazardly clothed and blinking sleep from his eyes with force. “Oi, what's going on?” he whispered, voice harsh with his worry.

“Hajime,” Oikawa whispered, syllables cracked with despair, resolve, and pain. Iwaizumi took an urgent step closer, fingertips on Oikawa's wrist unspoken answer to those feelings. Out loud, he asked: “What do you need me to do?”

Every fibre of his foolish heart protested against the words, and yet, Oikawa voiced them with eyes closed like it could make the reality hurt less. Like anything could make this less painful. “Take Tobio and run.”

“ _Tooru -_ ”

“Don't look back. It's the only way to save him.”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth, fingers on Oikawa's wrist tightening with alarm.

“Please,” Oikawa begged, before his friend could say a word. “If you ask me to stay I won't be able to say no.”

Instead of speaking, Iwaizumi only looked at Oikawa for a moment – dark eyes speaking louder, more honest than words could have. Carefully, he reached out and cradled Oikawa's face in his hands, bringing their foreheads together in a touch so achingly soft, for a moment Oikawa thought his heart would never keep beating.

 

\---

 

But it did.

Of course it did.

 

\---

 

Iwaizumi kept his fingertips running along the wall as he rushed down the uneven stone steps to the dungeon, trying to burn the memory of touching Oikawa away before it could make him give in, betray the promise he had made.

Not to look back.

To keep Tobio safe.

Even at the cost of everything he knew.

The guard Iwaizumi had been prepared to take out wasn't at her post, a puzzling detail he mistook for luck as his steps carried him past curious, hungry eyes of the inmates to the cell at the very end. “Tobio,” he whispered, with the same urgency with which Oikawa had called his name -

No, Iwaizumi couldn't think about him now.

There was movement in the dark cell, and Tobio's eyes were wide, and in his hurry Iwaizumi assumed it was the same wide-eyed glance of joy and disbelief whenever one of them snuck down here to keep him company, paid a visit.

But -

“No,” Tobio wept. “You must leave, you shouldn't have come -”

The sound of footsteps echoed through the dungeon, and a shiver ran down Iwaizumi's spine as he felt the presence behind him, could hear a hiss go through the neighboring cells in reaction to the person who had entered.

“Tooru has always been very predictable,” the king's voice rang.

Iwaizumi reached for his sword, instinct more than decision. The illusion that his fate was not forsaken yet.

“You may kill me,” the king told him good-naturedly, tone conversational. “I come alone. But know that boy is the first one to die if I do, and Tooru will follow.”

Iwaizumi lowered his head and hands.

 

\---

 

“Have a seat. It is so good to speak to you again. We haven't gotten around to talk in quite a while, have we?”

Oikawa tensed the muscles in his hands to hide their trembling, chin raised and keeping his mouth carefully shut. Any outburst could cost the most precious life he knew, if Iwaizumi was even still -

No, he couldn't think that way. Oikawa sat down and faced his father, expression so satisfied – this man knew he had won, triumphed, played him.

How could Oikawa have been so naïve?

“You can spare us both the pleasantries and skip right to the point,” Oikawa replied cooly. His father leaned back, fingertips touching on the table, a movement as slow as his smile. The king had not mistaken Oikawa's remark for anything but the desperate plea it was, and he was enjoying it.

“Well, I'll tell you what is on my mind, then. Can you imagine how shocked I was last night to realise one of my knight's loyalties clearly did not lie with me, the very ruler he served?”

Oikawa bit the inside of his cheek, desperately trying to school his expression into an unreadable mask even while the fear kept crushing him. This felt like -

His mother all over again.

If he lost Iwaizumi, he wouldn't be able to -

“He had been trying to free the child I ordered to be sent away and raised in safety. Truly an act of treason, don't you think?”

Treason. Oikawa flinched away from the word more forcefully than a blow could have made him.

“You and me know the penalty for treason, isn't that right, son?”

Death.

At this point, Oikawa would have done anything. Again, they both knew it.

“I'll do anything,” he replied tonelessly. He couldn't meet his father's gaze. One day, Oikawa would kill this man. He would kill him for all the things he had done, repay him tenfold. One day, this man would come to regret all his crimes.

But today, only Oikawa regret. This foolish plan, without anticipating that he had been read and played – been backed into a corner, all that was left now to surrender. His own mistakes had endangered the very people Oikawa had yearned to protect.

“If only I had known earlier that a single knight would be all it'd take to bring you back to your senses.”

Oikawa thought of Iwaizumi's steady pulse and did not bristle nor flinch under the heavy gaze of his father, this rotten man who looked at him as one might look at a magnificent stallion with its unwilling spirit broken at last.

“You could play a significant role in this court and enjoy great influence if only you weren't so misguided by your silly emotions and idealistic ideas. Let this be a valuable lesson to you – never make yourself vulnerable with attachment.”

Oikawa imagined himself to be a smooth stone at a river bed, the words of his father the water flowing above and around him, only brushing him as he remained unmoved.

“I can see it in your eyes, Tooru. Your hunger to play with kings and dabble in power. You have the sharp mind for it – if only you weren't so fragile. After all, you are just a boy, led astray by foolish beliefs. You want power, but you don't have the spine to handle the consequences. Let me tell you one thing, son.”

That word from the lips of this monster felt like a blow. Oikawa gritted his teeth, curled his fingers into his pants, and kept an unwavering façade up. No time to falter. Not now, not ever.

“Power never comes with clean hands. If you're not willing to play dirty, you won't get anywhere.” Calmly, the king opened a drawer and retrieved a bundle wrapped in cloth, placing it on the table, thud softened by the fine fabric. With great care, as if revealing a surprise he had been planning for a long time, he revealed a dagger beneath it.

“I'm telling you this much, Tooru. If you kill your brother and show me your resolve, I will make you the successor to my throne. You will inherit it rightfully.” The king pushed the dagger closer to Oikawa, who felt sick seeing its glint. It was a sleek, sharp weapon and its indications were so vile, so unspeakable.

In all this sick wrong-doing, at the very least Oikawa had believed in the king's loyalty to his first-born son, his pride, the successor he had groomed for so long.

All this, worthless. Offered up like a pigling fed fat and round to be handed to the slaughter. Like Wakatoshi was nothing more than a catalyst to grow a more volatile, bloodthirsty successor. How long had this been the plan? All along?

“Take my gift, Tooru. Else you might find it in the heart of that precious knight of yours.”

“You realise I could very well use it to end your life, right here and now?” Oikawa asked, trailing his finger along its hilt.

“Go on ahead, Tooru. I ordered the knight and my ferocious little monster to be killed with my death. Killing me means killing them. Killing your conscience. Leaving all attachments behind. Oh, wouldn't you make a fine king. I don't care about death as much as I care about my legacy to be eternal –“

In one fluent movement, Oikawa grabbed for the weapon and closed in on his father, sharp tip at his throat, relishing in the slight hitch in the man's breath.

“You looked awfully surprised for someone unafraid of death,” he whispered softly.

A single drop of blood slid down the king's throat as he swallowed.

“Do it. You'd do me a favour.”

“I know,” Oikawa replied, taking a step back as he lowered his weapon. He turned to leave, before he would do something he might regret. Behind him, the king broke into throaty, thundering laughter.

“Oh, and here I thought my youngest would be my masterpiece. But you, Tooru. Oh, you're exceeding all my expectations.”

Oikawa froze at the door, feeling the same kind of dread he had felt before Wakatoshi had told him Tobio would be taken away. “Your youngest?” he asked, and a part of him knew, knew without a doubt the meaning of this. “He is no orphan.”

The king threw his hand out, a careless gesture. “A bastard child of mine. He will make a useful tool once I am done with him.”

The dagger in his hand felt awfully tempting to Oikawa. He nicked his thumb on it just to clear his thoughts, breath harsh and laboured. Tobio, lost little Tobio, the little servant boy with no parents, the child chosen to be broken like a faulty tool and rearranged as a weapon.

“He should have been a prince.”

“You should be grateful for him. Else this would have been your fate, and both of us would have come to regret such a waste.”

“You will come to regret a lot of things,” Oikawa muttered darkly.

“Once I am done with you, you will be grateful for the tool that boy will make in your hands.”

“I will never be what you want me to be,” Oikawa replied, his voice ringing clear this time. Today, his father would get away with all this. But before Oikawa would surrender his conscience, give up his heart, sell his pride -

He would become a king, _his_ way. And then, Oikawa would end this man with the very dagger in his hand. “You can not break me.”

“You are just like your mother,” the king chuckled. “Make sure not to trip, Tooru.”

 

\---

 

“Come on now, little monster. Your temper tantrum will only make things worse for you.”

It wouldn't work. The little monster just kept sobbing. When Rauch had kicked it, things had only become worse. Apparently fear and pain were no stronger force than grief. Ugh, fine, then. Rauch rubbed his temple. What a bothersome task, to turn a weak little child into an assassin.

“That knight they're gonna hang for trying to free you -” The wailing intensified. “Shut your trap, will you! Jeez! Don't you need to breathe!” He grabbed the little monster at its wrist and yanked it to its feet. “Stop crying and I'll make sure he lives. Got it? You be a good little monster, learn everything I teach you, and the knight doesn't hang.”

Finally, the little monster shut up. Sniffled, wiped its nose. Ah, so he had its attention now. Who would've thought it'd be so easy.

“There, see. Maybe you're not entirely useless after all.”

 

\---

 

 

 

_I 'm writing because otherwise I keep drowning in my lies and pretense. I smile and buckle and pretend, pretend, pretend until I want to claw the invisible mask off my aching face and feel close to breaking. I can no longer afford a slip-up, a wrong word, any sign of rebellion. Hajime's life has become a blade against my neck used to force me into compliance. We both agree it would be safer if he left court. I'm scared that he hates_

_I'm scared that he_

_I'm certain we_

_I hope_

 

_\---_

 

_Hajime left today._

 

\---

 

_Tobio was not sent away, father keeps him close. I have no doubt they blackmailed him into his compliance. He is a fast learner._

_Knowing him to be my brother makes my shortcomings only worse. Still I cannot keep my promise._

_I am not sure how to face Wakatoshi. Would he believe the truth about father?_

 

_\---_

 

_I almost put my fist through a mirror today._

_Instead I veiled myself and snuck out of the palace. The streets of this city are rotten. They reek of death and waste. The people are starving. Someone has to bring change._

_A cunning thief attacked me. I have a split lip and he a black eye._

_I can't remember the last time I felt this alive. I need to hide my bruises._

 

_\---_

 

_I can not rest until I find the man my mother was seen with that night before her death._

 

_\---_

 

_They started sending Tobio on missions. He is terrifyingly skilled at what he does already._

_I have not seen him smile ever since that fateful day._

_I want to bring this smile back._

 

_\---_

 

_That thief mockingly calls me prince for my clean fingernails and has no idea who I am. Never have I been disrespected so openly by anyone. It seems we cannot come across each other without a brawl._

_It makes me feel alive._

 

_\---_

 

_I'm tired._

 

_\---_

 

_How much longer?_

 

_\---_

 

_It feels so lonely. I'm out in the city every night. The nights feel real and my days, they are endless, bizarre nightmares._

 

_\---_

 

_It feels less lonely with my thief._

_I miss Hajime._

_I wonder what he would think of me now._

_\---_

 

_I found him. The man my mother has been seen with, no doubt._

_Moniwa greeted me by expressing his respect for my mother. They were friends, my mother supported their cause. She died because she yearned and fought for revolution._

_There are a bunch of people plotting and planning. They must have been waiting for someone like me. Finally, I have a direction. No more waiting._

_I'll follow her footsteps and fight against everything my father stands for._

 

_\---_

 

_I will kill him I will kill him I will kill him I will kill him_

 

_\---_

 

_Hajime has been gone so long. The borders are in disarray._

_Tobio won't look at me anymore._

_Wakatoshi trusts father blindly._

 

_\---_

 

_Despite my age everyone at the Bed & Breakfast respects me. Most of us are young and hot blooded and brimming for change. They all speak highly of my mother._

_These people will help me bring change to this country, end the reign of that tyrant._

_But I'll be the one to deliver the final blow._

_My rare nights there give me enough hope to keep going._

 

_\---_

 

_Hajime is back. He brought a little boy who looks as much like a feral dog as people think Tobio to be._

_He claims the kid is his brother so he can stay in court._

_The price for it is high but the boy refuses to leave Hajime's side._

_I guess it means the end of Tobio's loneliness._

 

_\---_

 

_Hajime hates my bruises, the thief who rarely still puts them there, my sleeping schedule and my compliance in court. He's unhappy with all my 'shitty life choices'._

_It's like he's never been gone._

_I'm so happy I could cry._

 

_\---_

 

_We will bring the fall of the king together. Everything else we can figure out after that retched man stops breathing._

 

\---

 

_5 years ago_

 

“Run, don't look back. Keep Kentarou safe.”

Tobio looked up at Iwaizumi, Kentarou's unwilling, clammy hand relentlessly locked in his own. Usually, Tobio made sure not to touch anyone, but this time, it was unavoidable since the child kept and kept fighting to stay with Iwaizumi instead.

“I don't wanna leave - !” Kentarou protested, but fell quiet when Iwaizumi ruffled his hair.

“Just for now. We need to change a lot tonight before you can come back here and be safe and sound.”

Iwaizumi caught Kageyama's gaze, who knew what he had to do and nodded grimly.

If the revolution failed, if this wouldn't work out – they could never look back if they wanted to live.

This was a last promise to Iwaizumi and Oikawa alike that Tobio intended to keep, no matter what.

_Live._

 

\---

 

_One day prior_

 

Kageyama had always known that if he would see the halls of the throne room again, he would be weighed with shackles and dragged against his will.

Because it would mean his death to return. And even if not, he had never felt a desire to return in the first place – after all, what was there left for him in this place? Nothing. Not the people who had made this something akin to a home.

Only this – glaring up at Ushijima Wakatoshi, the king who sat where Oikawa should have been.

Oddly, as he stood barely lucid and worn down before the king, Kageyama remembered one summer day when he had been younger, before everything had gone to hell, when he had declared to become King Oikawa's best knight under the guidance of Iwaizumi, and the sweetness of the memory sent a jolt of pain through his body worse than the bruises and hunger of the past days.

And anger – oh, how it filled him, the anger and frustration. How much he loathed this man, this king who so simply sentenced Kageyama to his death.

Only now, in the blatant face of his loss did Kageyama become fully aware of how much it still hurt and now – now this verdict had made it impossible to keep even the last of the two promises he had made that night.

Kageyama would be hanged for the one murder he had never committed, and the irony made him wheeze broken, desperate, hollowed out laughter all the way down towards the dungeons.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support and your kind words. They really keep me going! <3
> 
>  
> 
> And since the long breaks really haven't helped some confusion, for anyone interested, a few questions broken down:
> 
> **Say whaaaat! So Kageyama was the person from the prologue all along?!** Yeah he was.
> 
> **Does that mean he has royal blood?!** Well, yeah! Not that it matters much to him. Only Hinata knows.
> 
> **But he didn't kill the king?!** Obviously not.
> 
> **Then who did?!** Take a guess. We'll see what happened in due time.
> 
> **Wait, so which king died and which one reigns?** Wakatoshi's, Tooru's and (gasp) Tobio's Dad Of The Year™ was the ruler (and consequently at fault for 85% of the things wrong in this verse) until one fateful, fateful night. Ushijima took over the throne after his death.  
>  Put simply:  
> King, past tense means Mr. 'How 'bout you stab one of your family members, son' Mc Douchenozzle  
> King present tense means Ushijima.
> 
> **That former king really was a douchenozzle of epic proportions, wtf.** Amen.
> 
> **An ominous 'queen'? Revolutionists camping in a Bed & Breakfast?!** We really do have lots ahead! Hoo boy.
> 
> **So, Iwaizumi and Oikawa. They totally blew off the revolution and instead went to live at the seaside, right.** Don't we all wish there was an outcome where they would've surrendered their fight instead of seeing it through to the end. But that's not who they are. 
> 
> **Go burn in hell.** In fact that's what I've been doing all along.


	9. Glitter and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally see where our lost crows ended up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least it didn't take me a year to show where Kiyoko and Kageyama ended up - OH WAIT.
> 
> To be perfectly honest, I'm still not quite satisfied with this chapter, but! I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!  
> We're moving forward ᕙ( * •̀ ᗜ •́ * )ᕗ

Her cheeks were wet from sweat, not tears.

Kiyoko sat with her head leaned back against the stone, on a dirty cot barely offering comfort. Alone, with silence tearing hungrily into her, ripping her nerves, leaving her unsettled. If only she knew what had happened to Kageyama, what they would do to him – whether he was still alive.

Kiyoko ran a bruised hand through her tangled hair, trying to find some distraction and giving up halfway through. Too tired to try and salvage it, scalp still too tender from the pins they'd torn from it before they'd pushed her into this cell. She had hidden one of them under her tongue, and long placed it beneath the dirty hay of the cot.

Kiyoko did not plan to die here, even when she had no idea yet how to make it out of this cell, out of this castle, back to her forest. Back to her family. First, she needed more information.

And Kageyama to return. To at least know what had happened.

She closed her eyes, trying to banish the possibilities her mind conjured with thoughts of lush green leaves rustling in the wind, the scent of earth and promise of Asahi's cooking wafting through the air after a busy day. She imagined Suga's hands, the trace of herbs he always carried with him, how gentle his voice and hands would take care of her wounds now. How much rougher Saeko's kindness would be.

Kiyoko hugged her knees to her chest and thought of Yachi's laughter, their fingers tangled together, the scent of flowers and the feeling of summer.

And her heart kept beating, beating, beating.

 

\---

 

She got ripped from the soothing lull of half-sleep by the sound of rattling chains and broken laughter echoing through the dungeon. Drowsy as she was, sheer instinct forced her off the cot and into the furthest corner of the cell when the door opened again, the guard's harsh words only registering as sound, not discernible sentences. Blinking, she registered too late that the person pushed into the cell and stumbling towards her was Kageyama.

She shot forwards, wheezing from his weight as she tried to ease his fall. Heavy. Alive. Still laughing, and with his hands bound by heavy shackles. His head slumped against her shoulder as their knees hit the ground, the touch making her freeze but not pull away. They played by different rules than they had in the forest, mere acquaintances forged into allies, their bond suddenly unbreakable.

Kiyoko simply kept holding onto Kageyama when the door fell back into place with deafening noise, the heavy footsteps subsided. When silence settled back over them, leaving them alone, she pulled back and made sure Kageyama looked at her, paid attention.

“You are going to be okay.” Her voice cracked with the words, mouth too dry. She would have offered her soul for a cup of water, a set of clean clothes, a chunk of bread. They were bruised, weary, desperate and helpless, the furthest from okay, but - “We are both going to be okay.”

Kageyama exhaled, lifting his head to glare at the heavy lock securing the door, and then his shackled wrists. Kiyoko slipped away, grateful for his silence after his hysterical outburst, searching for the pin. “You'll need to put them back on when the guards come,” she told him softly, finding comfort in the task ahead as she sat down before him again, bending the pin as she needed it.

Hoping that part of her training had not left her.

With a sigh, she went to work.

How stupid, to have fought her past so long, thinking she had to keep it locked away and deny everything that had been before she had crossed the borders – all this painful, winding road towards acceptance, making peace with it – and now, to be punished for it a decade later. If only she would have had the nerve to burn away the faded ink that marked her as part of the spies.

The mark used to be a guarantee for support, a sign of recognition among those from Jouzenji, trained for nothing but to infiltrate the neighboring kingdom they'd been at unofficial war with for so long. But once their movement got discovered, the mark had become a danger to anyone bearing it – even to those who had never wanted to be a part of it.

In the forest, it hadn't mattered.

The shackles sprang open with a deep, satisfying clicking noise and as Kageyama exhaled as he lifted his hands from them. The weight of his pain showed clearly on his face as he shifted his shoulders into a more natural position, wincing and carefully massaging his bad shoulder. “Thank you,” he rasped.

Kiyoko forced the corners of her mouth up, more weary effort than smile. “We need to make sure the guards don't see. It should be enough to loosely put them back over your wrists when the patrols come.”

Strategy. This was a language they both spoke, much more fluently than smalltalk and pleasantries came to them.

“Any luck on finding out how many and when?” Kageyama asked, and tried to blink the dust out of his eyes, realising a heartbeat later that finally he could freely raise his hands for it.

Kiyoko steeled her shoulders, feeling the tattered remains of her sanity pulled together with strings made of logic, a clear task to put their mind to. An agency that would carry them through and out of this. “I didn't have enough time yet. But leave it to me, I'll figure the pattern out soon enough.”

Kageyama nodded, looking more weary than she felt – and that said a lot considering Kiyoko felt exhausted to the bone.

It was not much that she knew about Kageyama's past, but enough to realise that this place took an emotional toll on him on a much deeper level, even more viciously.

At least he wouldn't have to bear it alone. Neither of them would have to. And at least, neither Yachi nor Hinata were here in this hole with them. Crow had shot off like an arrow to get help … certainly, when morning came, Karasuno had come to save them.

The other possibilities were unthinkable.

“It has been a long while since I set foot in this castle, but I still know its layout and I doubt they changed the security completely,” Kageyama offered, and it pulled the first genuine smile from Kiyoko.

They'd make it out of here and return home safely, they would.

 

\---

 

Ushijima concentrated on nothing but one footstep after the other, head reeling, throbbing from replaying it all over and over – from the second the guards had dragged Tobio away, to planning a public execution for a man Tooru had spent most of his life protecting.

No, Ushijima couldn't think about it like that – Tooru's attachment had always made him overlook Tobio's crimes, so Ushijima could not be dragged into similar sentiments for nostalgia alone.

What he needed for now was the sanctity of his own chambers, a moment of silence. No more paperwork, no more executions that made sense in his mind but not his heart, no more.

No more.

When he slipped past the guards into his room, he was taken aback by the fresh breeze greeting him in the darkness. The pressing feeling of not being alone in his own room settled thickly over his skin, making him swallow. Calling up a voice which should have long been forgotten.

_Next time we meet I'll have to kill you._

If it was truly _him,_ Ushijima could not let his guards intervene. Holding his breath, he let the door fall shut behind him, every muscle of his body ready to dodge a weapon or fist swung at him.

“Wakatoshi,” a voice said, its familiarity instant, but time apart making it a process to match it to the right name.

When was the last time someone had called him by his first name at all?

“Satori,” he replied after a heartbeat longer than most would consider polite, but then again Tendou had very clearly invaded his room. Staying polite did not seem much of a priority in this confrontation.

Making his way through the darkness towards his desk, Ushijima's fingers came up empty in search of the oil lamp, which flared to life that second from an armchair at the window, painting shadows over Tendou's grinning face.

“Over here, Your Majesty.” The title sounded like a casual nickname from Tendou's mouth.

Ushijima felt out of his depths, but surrendered and joined the man at the window, settling in the armchair across from him, goosebumps creeping over his bare arms from the cool night air coming in from the window.

What did you say to a person you had not seen since the death of your brother and father? Tragedies which had left him as the only successor of the royal family, made Ushijima king overnight. Changed his life forever. How much had Tendou changed, working at the borders?

It had been so long. Even though Ushijima had forfeited their once strong bond a long time ago, suddenly he felt nostalgic for the easy friendship Tendou and him used to share.

Perhaps it was just a side effect of the day, all this nostalgia creeping up on him.

“You are back,” Ushijima acknowledged.

Tendou's lip curled into a sharp smile. “Now, don't knock yourself out with joy, Wakatoshi. I see you're busy being a mighty king and all. What a grand show., announcing a public execution of a traitor.”

A piping hot feeling began crawling under his skin at the realisation that Tendou had seen the verdict, and Ushijima couldn't place it – why he felt this way, why it made him sick to his stomach.

“The murder of my father cannot go unpunished,” he said, with a smidge too much force.

Tendou sighed and placed the lamp on the table between them, giving up on the dramatic effect he had no doubt hoped to achieve. As if some shadows dancing over his features would have bothered Ushijima, when Tendou's sheer presence alone put him in disarray.

“Jeez,” Tendou muttered, stretching his arms and sinking deeper into the chair, folding his hands on his stomach. “Your father's murderer has long been punished.”

“Seeing that Tobio has been caught only now, I highly doubt that,” Ushijima replied cooly, but the unease crawling in his stomach would not go away, an itch which had started with the moment Tobio had been captured.

“You got the wrong brother, Wakatoshi,” Tendou replied, gaze gleaming with intensity. “We both know that, don't we?”

“That man is not my brother.” The words were faster out of his mouth than Ushijima could stop him. When he looked at his hands in his lap, he realised they were trembling. “Sharing the same father does not make Tobio my brother.”

“Strange, how that always was more than enough with Tooru, though. But I'm not trying to fight with you over semantics.” Tendou waved his hand dismissively, but his posture straightened and his voice grew heavier in contrast. “That assassin sitting in your dungeon waiting to be hanged is about as guilty of your father's death as you are. As I am! Meaning of course, he has a perfectly clean record – not counting the killing sprees ordered by your father. But once again, semantics!”

Ushijima found himself growing irritated, a feeling that did not come easily or often to him and thus, only irritated him further. “What do you want? What do you expect to achieve? Are you trying to confuse me, should I let this man go free because of flimsy evidence neither of us can prove? There is no choice.”

“You are a _king,_ Wakatoshi,” Tendou shot back, relentless. “Nobody in this country has as many choices as you have. And should a man be _hanged_ for flimsy evidence neither of us can prove?”

“It is not that simple.” How dare Tendou barge in here and pretend it was? “I can not waver, for there are people who want to see this reign fall for good. I am the only heir left to this crown. This responsibility does not leave space for personal _choices._ ”

“Choices, choices, choices.” Tendou waved his hand out again, and Ushijima noticed for the first time that a huge, jagged scar ran from his palm up to his elbow now. “So you want to sacrifice little Tobio to make a statement. Fine then. But aren't you forgetting something?”

“I am certain if I am, you will enlighten me.”

Tendou barked a laugh, and it made light dance in his eyes in a way that made him less of a stranger, and more the hotblooded knight Ushijima used to know, grew up with. “I missed this,” Tendou said, the slight warmth in his voice a stark contrast to the merciless tone he slipped back into effortlessly a jeartbeat later. “Everyone is so keen on punishing your father's murderer, but aren't _you_ far more concerned who killed your brother?”

Tooru. Ushijima closed his eyes against the onslaught of memories, clenching his fists. When he opened them again, Tendou sat bent forwards, elbows on his knees, gaze on him intent. “Bingo,” he whispered.

“That question has already been answered,” Ushijima replied stiffly. Today had thrown him in disarray too much for him to deal with those memories and the emotions they stirred efficiently. “I have long come to terms with his -”

“His what? Tendou asked. “His plans to murder you, so before he could, they just quickly stabbed him instead? And Iwaizumi with him? And strangely, it cost Shirabu's life a couple days later?”

“Yes,” Ushijima forced out through gritted teeth. “There is no need to -”

Tendou cut him off. “There is always a need for truth, because these lies are paralysing you. They keep you from reigning your own kingdom.”

Ushijima swallowed, for a second considering to call for the guards, to end this talk where it was. But that would have been a coward's approach. It took Ushijima a deep, measured breath to get his next sentence out calmly. “I beg your pardon.”

It made Tendou grin. “Don't try to be neutral with me, it's creeping me out. I know you're more than you let on under that stoic façade, no matter how much you changed.”

“You haven't changed much,” Ushijima muttered darkly, and it made Tendou bark another laugh.

“You're right with one thing. You got more enemies than allies, and all of them wanna see your head on a silver platter, Wakatoshi. The situation at the border is growing more tense by the day. This country is at the verge of war and at the same time you plan a public execution to prove the strength of your reign for good. A move that might as well backfire completely and leave you dead or disgraced, most likely both. No matter how you look at it, that's honestly insane.”

Ushijima straightened his shoulders, raised his chin. “If you are trying to get me to cancel these plans and take a coward's approach instead of showing the public that they have no business doubting my reign -”

“And is fear and hatred truly the foundation you want to keep building your reign on?” Tendou cut in, rendering Ushijima speechless for a heartbeat too long.

Tendou sighed, rubbing his temple. “Either way, I don't mind some excitement – do as you like. The important thing is that you choose the few people you can trust wisely. It'd make my job a lot easier.”

“Your job?” Ushijima asked. He had a feeling Tendou wasn't referring to the true reason he had been called away from his duty at the borders – namely, to attend a strategy meeting outlining the steps taken from here on out against the aggression Jouzenji kept showing. The peace between the countries was too recent, too fragile to withstand the ongoing conflicts, and it was to be decided what would be done about it.

“I'm here to make a miracle happen,” Tendou replied cryptically, and pushed himself up to his feet. Ushijima followed suit, trailing two steps behind him. A part of him found that despite all the frustration and questions Tendou had kindled in him, Ushijima was reluctantly to let him go just now.

“By which you mean what, exactly?” he asked.

Tendou turned abruptly, and surprised Ushijima yet another time by putting a warm hand on his shoulder. “Why, to keep your head from rolling even when most want to see you dead.” He grinned, then, and even though everything he said had been vaguely unsettling at best, Ushijima felt … hopeful.

It wasn't a notion he was particularly familiar with anymore.

“It's good to be back,” Tendou sighed. “Would've liked to be here sooner, but it was strangely impossible to return. Another curious circumstance. But! Sleep is calling my name, and we don't want your guards getting suspicious. We can unravel mysteries all we want come morning.” Tendou gave him a two-fingered salute. “Just – two more things!” He spun his hand away from his temple, wiggling his fingers with a grin. “One – don't tell your advisors about my little visit, yeah?”

Ushijima's brows furrowed, but before he could reply anything or inquire why exactly this should be kept hidden, Tendou kept going. “Two – you're looking a little tense. I've arranged for a very nice lady to visit your chambers tomorrow night.”

“I am not interested,” Ushijima replied immediately. The least thing he needed was -

But Tendou only patted his cheek and something in his smile caught Ushijima's attention. “Trust me, you'll _love_ her. Enjoy yourself.”

With that, he jumped from the window and into the night.

“You could have used the door,” Ushijima dead-panned as he watched his friend's silhouette retreat, left alone in silence and with questions he had long meant to bury, or never stopped to ask.

 

\---

 

“Your Majesty!”

Ushijima gulped for breath, Tooru's blood still vivid behind his eyelids.

“Your Majesty, it was only a dream - are you alright? I mean, you are most certainly alright, I am right here!”

Another gulp of air. His lungs were still working. He was still alive. _Ushijima_ still was.

“Your Majesty? There is no need for fear -”

Dragging a trembling hand over his tired face, Ushijima forced himself to open his eyes properly. What he saw in the dim light were bright eyes, a round face hovering uncomfortably close in the light of a lamp. The person's smile grew at eye contact. “There you are! It's all good now! It was just a dream!”

Just a dream. Ushijima pushed himself up, still feeling out of it, .

It had felt so real. It always did.

But when he looked down at his hands, there was no blood to see – they were untainted as ever. Ushijima tore his gaze away from them, settling to deal with the stranger in his chambers to gather his wits again.

“Why are you – ”

“Here?” The knight asked eagerly, cutting him off without a care in the world. “I heard a commotion and wanted to make sure you are alright!”

A commotion … ? Those nightmares had been a constant companion from the second Ushijima had found Tooru and Hajime all those years ago. But nobody else had ever _noticed._ How loud had Ushijima's thrashing been to call the guards to attention?

This would not do. Steeling his shoulders, Ushijima forced his body language into the symbol of unwavering strength someone of his status had to be, each day. He looked around, ready to inform several guards that they could return to their post, puzzled at the lack of others in the room.

The guard followed his gaze, clearly flustered now. “Uhm – actually, it's just me. The commotion wasn't all too loud … but I was worried so I had to check! My colleague thinks I'll be relieved of my duty on my first day and, uhm, actually it would be pretty cool if you wouldn't do that!” The guard lifted his bangs with a two-fingered gesture and shot Ushijima a grin. “I promise I'm the best knight you can get!”

What an odd person, but it seemed Ushijima had always had a soft spot for them. He blinked, not certain how to deal with this situation, and ended up going with his gut. “What is your name?”

“Goshiki Tsutomu! I am from a small village at the border of Shiratorizawa! I have helped settle many a border quarrel and honed my skills in hopes to serve you and convince you how vital a fighter I'll be at your side!” Goshiki beamed at him proudly, a gesture so heartfelt and without restraints, it took Ushijima utterly off guard. “In fact, I have heard of your own skills with the blade and strive to surpass you! … and then you should definitely keep me at your side and declare me the strongest knight in all the kingdom!” Suddenly realising again that he deemed his new post in jeopardy, Goshiki faltered, but offered a glass of clear water in his hands anyways. “Please excuse my intrusion. I only wanted to be absolutely certain you are truly safe and found you in the clutches of night terrors … my mother used to tell me that clear water and a kind word could easily clear your head of them.”

Ushijima took the offered glass, grateful for the cool sensation in his palm. “My mother used to sing as a remedy, for my brother and me.” Why ever those words had slipped from him. Perhaps it was the late hour.

“That sounds lovely,” Goshiki replied, smile wobbling only a little. “May she rest in peace.”

“Yes,” Ushijima replied, gaze caught on the way the light played in the water cradled in his palms. It could be poisoned, Goshiki sent here to smile and lure him into a false sense of safety.

What a creative approach it would be for an assassination attempt.

Tendou's voice rang in his mind, clear and true. _The important thing is that you choose the few people you can trust wisely._

Clear water and a kind word, huh?

Ushijima downed the glass in three big gulps.

 

\---

 

“Ration the water you have been given.” The voice rang deeply - despite how low and raspy a sound it was, the presence of another person a cell over startled Kiyoko. She had been dozing a little, considering when she could expect the next ration and how much water that meant she could gulp down. And suddenly, there was this voice from a cell over.

They had been here for at least 24 hours without any indication that anyone but them was doomed to rot down here, which had sent Kiyoko's skin crawling. Apparently nobody stayed long enough to be trialled properly or be punished with time in this dungeon, rather the cells were temporary ways to store people before they were handed off to their true fate.

Death, most likely. Perhaps worse.

She couldn't decide if knowing someone else here was a good sign or a bad.

Either way, they would need to get out of here soon and fast.

“The food, too,” the stranger added. “Everything you'll get for the next three rations will taste like shit and numb your senses. Rauch always puts a special twist to it, the bastard.”

Kiyoko shut her eyes, trying to ignore the hole in her stomach and her dry throat aching for more water. Not even something as simple could be granted to them, huh? “Thank you for the warning,” she replied politely, because it kept her from bursting into tears – a true waste of energy. Almost as much as working her pin in the bulky lock before the door when she felt like she was going insane. Despite knowing it was futile, Kiyoko liked to keep her hands busy.

The man from the neighboring cell only grunted some kind of acknowledgement back. Kageyama began tossing in his fitful sleep.

Kiyoko started counting from 10.000 backwards.

At 8796, she could not bear the silence any longer. “What is your name?” she asked.

No reply.

At 7551, the stranger rasped: “It will be morning when he gets here. Prepare yourself. It'll get ugly. It always is.”

That last sentence sent a chill down Kiyoko's spine and made her heart ache with its finality. How long had this man been here? Why that special treatment? “How can I prepare myself?” she asked.

The man barked a laugh like she had asked something stupid, as if preparing was futile. “You're in luck, he'll be more interested in the man with you. If you're stupid enough to try and protect him, be prepared to suffer in his stead.”

How reassuring.

“Do you mean Kageyama?” she asked, marvelling a little at how calm her voice sounded. “He'll try to hurt Kageyama?”

“Who else is there, beside me,” the man muttered darkly and fell silent.

With a racing heart, Kiyoko looked down at her bruised hands. Would she really be able to return to all the lessons she had spent so long suppressing and putting past her?

But … she was no monster, no killing machine.

_It is impossible for me to lose control,_ she promised herself. _It is impossible. I will defend myself and him. Bloody rampages are impossible. I do not need to be afraid of myself._

If only she could believe that. She'd never been able to. Kiyoko closed her eyes again.

The lesson would be pounded into her now, huh? Do or die.

And death had never been an option.

With a start, Kageyama woke, so utterly lost tumbling out of the haze of sleep that Kiyoko hurried to his side, her worries replaced. How casually he brushed over his eyes and tried to seem collected only called attention to the haunted look in his eyes, the tension in his posture.

“A nightmare?” Kiyoko asked softly.

Kageyama shook his head with a rueful little smile. “I only dream of him now,” he replied, and fell back onto the cot, covering his eyes with his arms. “What bullshit” he whispered, simple words ringing with so much pain it rattled Kiyoko to her core.

She felt almost relieved that sleep only came to her in bursts of hours, never deep enough to dream more than hushed echoes of images.

“We'll be back soon enough,” she promised.

The man in the cell over made a huffing noise, like her promise was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

Kiyoko wondered if she could learn to trust an unknown, unresponsive man enough to involve him in a potential plan to escape.

She was all about planning and wondering these days. It was that or madness, and frankly, she chose the former.

 

\---

 

Ushijima had not planned to comply with Tendou's wishes, but it seemed unfitting to remark on a strange late-night encounter at a strategy meeting, and so he played along more out of courtesy than conviction as he nodded his head to the pleasantries of nobles and his council, taking his place at the head of the round table.

The matter at hand was straight forward - despite the personal history Tobio's capture had awoken in Ushijima, there were much more pressing matters to attend to. The tension between Shiratorizawa and Jouzenji had created a need for calculated action before the people at the borders would go off like a loaded cannon by sheer friction alone.

What 'calculated action' would entail was to be decided together with the heads of his council, with Tendou as the main force of knowledge, considering his continued work at the borders over these past years.

Yes, a straight forward matter indeed. And yet, as Ushijima listened and nodded and tried to make sense of the flood of contradicting informations and opinions offered – there it was again, that nagging voice in his mind. That voice of doubt Tendou had fed and fostered yesterday, after Ushijima had spent so much time starving it.

How come Ushijima was holding a council with men and women he had never seen before in his life? These people were the heads of his country, the hands that would do the bidding in his name. His most trusted.

And the only face Ushijima knew was Tendou's, because they had happened to grow up alongside each other. And even then, they hadn't seen each other in a decade.

What contradiction.

A noblewoman of the ports spoke about bandits attacking ships and harbours alike, their origin clearly being Jouzenji. Ushijima nodded and listened, he _tried._ But all the while he pondered why he did not know her name, and failed to fight the distraction Tendou posed as his face shifted and twisted along to the words spoken. He kept shaking his head, mouthing 'lies' or gaping in feigned shock. Not a subtle bone in his body.

And oddly, Ushijima also thought about the declaration of the rookie knight from the evening prior - _I have heard of your own skills with the blade and strive to surpass you!_

When was the last time Ushijima had even gotten the chance to touch a blade?

How was he to decide the fate of an impending war if he did not even remember the weight of a hilt in his palm?

What was he doing?

“Your Majesty, _what_ are you doing?” Danrelle had risen from her seat, her usually soft eyes fierce and sparking with the closest to anger Ushijima had ever seen his head advisor, and it sharply called his attention to the way he had shifted.

When had he risen to his feet? He stared down at his white-knuckled fingers clutching the edge of the table, and couldn't bring himself to sink back into his seat. When Ushijima looked up, he caught the blazing glee in Tendou's eyes as he watched, for the first time granting this round all of his attention.

“I find it hard to come to a conclusion this way,” Ushijima said truthfully.

A nobleman from the South and another advisor, clearly ahead of Ushijima in age and experience, put their heads together and whispered, harsh and hissed words. It left Ushijima undeterred, no matter how many protocols he was breaking.

“By all means,” Danrelle rasped, exasperated. “This is why you called upon the opinion of the heads of this country who do your bidding and can gauge the situation.We must _act,_ Your Majesty. We do not have the luxury of remaining idle!”

Ushijima inclined his head. “By all means, I do not mean to stay idle. However, such a delicate matter can not be decided in one night alone. This is no ceremony to be planned, this, council, is a question of whether we will go to war or not. I ask all of you to prolong your stay for now.”

“You can not expect us to - !” The noblewoman who had spoken so calmly about countless attacks suddenly looked livid.

“Are your seconds in command truly so untrustworthy you cannot leave your posts in their hands for now? Perhaps you should reconsider your choices then. For today, this meeting is dismissed. I need time to think, and I ask all of you to consider this matter carefully as well.” He inclined his head. “I am looking forward to discuss our further proceedings with you after our minds could settle and stomach all this information. If you will excuse me, I have places to be.”

Ignoring the stares, ranging from glee to dissatisfaction to downright anger, Ushijima exited the room, feet carrying him faster even than his thoughts were racing. No matter how unbecoming his behaviour just now had been, what he had to do seemed clearer than anything else to him.

When he reached the knight's quarters, in all the busy flurry of people trying to please the king, someone finally found Goshiki Tsutomu as requested.

“Your Majesty?” the young knight asked, eyes wide, body half-bent somewhere between a bow and a position that seemed like he was bracing himself for anything. Some around him grinned, as if they were still expecting him to be relieved of his duty, when Ushijima's plans were far from that.

“If I could have a second of your time,” Ushijima said simply. “I would like to test the sword skills you told me about last night.”

 

\---

 

“I see you two got well acquainted,” Tendou offered where he stood, shoulder propped against the door frame and arms crossed. A surprisingly humble entrance.

Ushijima wiped the sweat from his brows, chest still heaving. Across from him, Goshiki was in the same state, a wild grin on his face that Ushijima could only echo. How long had it been since his blood had been rushing, his body alight like this? For once, Ushijima felt alive and settled in his own skin.

“So, you kicked Wakatoshi's ass?”

Goshiki's lips fell into an offended gape at the casual way Tendou referred to Ushijima, but the king himself couldn't care less. It felt pleasant, like different times – where Ushijima would spend his days with swordplay and would eat dinner with Oikawa who'd rant on and on about stars or stories or the make-believe play of the day. Of course, that had changed eventually, too.

But still, it was pleasant, to feel like he could almost taste the hearty broth of the soup and hear Oikawa's voice.

“He did defeat me,” Ushijima acknowledged.

Goshiki shook his head wildly. “Only because Your Majesty is out of practice! I have to work much harder from here on out if I want to keep the upper hand!”

“Now, now.” Tendou clicked his tongue and pushed off the door frame, striding into the stable with the demeanor of a predator. “Tsutomou, what did we agree on?”

As if someone had found a plug to let all the fight and excitement drain from him, Goshiki hung his head. “No show fighting on castle grounds. But that's why I thought the stables would be suited - !”

“Why would you hide such talent?” Ushijima asked, lowering the wooden sword they had switched to after the first cut, realising they were too equally matched and hot-headed in a fight. Now both of them were littered in bruises all over instead.

With ginger fingers, Tendou picked some hay from Ushijima's sticky chest, lips curling in amusement. Goshiki didn't look much better, though most of the hay had gotten stuck in his even hair, for some reason. “Why, he's the ace of our mission.”

At that, Goshiki broke into a starry-eyed grin, chest puffed up with pride.

“The mission to keep me alive?” Ushijima asked.

Tendou inclined his head. “That would be the one. If nobody knows the lowly country hick could best most knights in this castle, then your back is a lot safer from arrows and daggers.” Tendou put a hand on Goshiki's shoulder, squeezing it and shaking the young knight a little, who wore a flustered grin at the adoration in Tendou's voice. “Trust me, this one will save your life so many times, you'll owe him your firstborn someday.”

“That's a little much,” Goshiki protested, looking horrified. “I don't think I could take care of a -”

“I believe it was only a turn of phrase,” Ushijima offered to ease the knight's worries, who looked only a friction more relieved. It seemed Tendou made true on his words most times.

“Oh, you two.” Tendou somehow managed to ruffle both their hair like they were kids, not a king and his hidden best knight. “Why are the earnest ones always my favourites? Anyways, Tsutomu, how about a shower?”

Goshiki snapped into a bow immediately, arms stiffly at his side. “It was my pleasure! Let's train together again! Have a good night!”

He was gone so fast it was honestly a little astonishing. Tendou sighed deeply, but the look in his eyes stayed fond. “He's such a good kid. I picked him off a village where he protected every single person, with only a pitchfork and sheer willpower. He was only fourteen, chased away a small group of bandits.”

“He's talented with the sword,” Ushijima acknowledged.

“Don't break your back with enthusiasm. Though, well, I know that glint in your eyes. You can't wait to go up against him and win, right?”

“I never particularly liked losing, so I made sure I never lost.”

“Until, until,” Tendou sing-songed, tilting his head and torso sideways to peer up at Ushijima from an odd angle. “You lost everything.”

For some reason, Ushijima had the feeling that from his perspective Tendou could exactly pinpoint the moment his façade cracked for a fraction of a second, leaving his hurt in the open, and how badly he had healed even after all this time.

But Ushijima was not about to let Tendou ruin all the work he had put in to stay remotely sane, and kept his calm. “Are you trying to find another occasion to spout unnecessary accusations?”

“Just one question.” Tendou raised his pointer finger with a sharp grin to match, never straightening quite, spine always a little bent. Ushijima liked to believe it had no effect whatsoever on him. “What happened to Kenjirou?”

Ushijima tensed, an uncomfortable cold shiver spreading across his skin. The pleasant, hot sweat from before had cooled and suddenly felt uncomfortable, the hay itching on his skin, his bruises beginning to ache. Ushijima swallowed. “He died on his way into exile.”

Tendou tipped his pointer finger against his grin, then raised it back up in the air. “Presenting facts, one: Kenjirou leaves his post guarding your father as the castle is under siege, rushing to your aid instead.”

“A mistake,” Ushijima muttered, even though at the time, before everything else had caught up with him, Ushijima had been touched by Shirabu's loyalty.

Tendou raised another finger, and Ushijima shivered again.

“Presenting facts, two: you beg the court not to kill him.”

Not his proudest moment. Ushijima stared blankly at Tendou, not offering a word. Despite the heavy critique of the court for his behaviour, Ushijima had never regret it.

Another finger. Tendou's grin promised unpleasant things.

“Presenting facts, three: by a strange, tragic accident, Kenjirou dies after all.”

“A tragedy indeed,” Ushijima confirmed, wondering why Tendou had to tear open old wounds which had healed badly in the first place. _All_ of them.

Tendou kept his three fingers raised, and something about them felt like a threat. Like judgement ready to be delivered. “Tell me, Wakatoshi: even if you weren't involved in the crime, doesn't ignoring it make you complacent anyways?”

“Enough.” His voice sounded rough, torn. “ _Enough._ ”

“It still hurts, doesn't it?”

“I said _enough_.”

Tendou nodded, solemnly. “So bet it, then, Your Majesty. Your wish is my command.” He bowed, a mocking mirror of Goshiki's genuine gesture from before. At the door frame, there was only one last thing he called over his shoulder, fraying the rest of Ushijima's nerves and leaving him numb and frustrated.

“You'll never get over any of it if you keep ignoring unpleasant truths, King. Enjoy yourself later.”

 

\---

 

 

That very last part obviously went ignored by Ushijima's mind, busy with trying to keep the mourning at bay, left reeling after such a short-tempered decision at the strategy meeting. At first, Ushijima hacked away at straw dummies with his sword, pushing himself harder and harder until his muscles burned. But in the end, his sword tumbled from his grasp, fingers giving in, and he had to retire to his rooms and catch his breath, a stoic expression as he passed the staring guards and servants, perhaps even some of the nobles.

Honestly, Tendou's warped ideas of fun had left Ushijima's mind utterly as his personal guard bowed and informed him that his companion had been checked and was already waiting for him in his room.

So it all simply came crushing down as he pushed the door open and found a dazzling woman clad in fine silks and pearls sitting on his bed, hands folded gingerly in her lap, lips curled in a smile dripping with faux pleasantry. “Your Majesty,” she spoke. “It is my honour.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's that pokémon?
> 
> Once more, thank you all for your feedback and patience! This story keeps changing (I had to rewrite 75% of my plot thanks to Tendou, THANKS FOR NOTHING TENDOU) and I'm keeping up very slowly, but I promise we'll see this through to the end and there's a couple of awesome chapters ahead! 
> 
> Have a great day, I hope y'all get to pat a puppy real soon!
> 
> (P.S.: If you want to see drabbles, writing prompts and some passionate rants to come, feel free to follow my [writing blog!](http://lemon-ink.tumblr.com/))


	10. The lucky ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which truths are learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. Everytime I think the next chapter is gonna be easier to tackle, it's an even _harder_ chapter. I just ... want to get these guys into the city ... is that too much to ask for ... 
> 
>  
> 
> Dedicated to the beautiful [Triana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Triana/pseuds/Triana) because she keeps reminding me why I torture myself for this story over and over.
> 
>  
> 
> And if you want to torture yourself like I did, I recommend to loop [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QT5eGHCJdE) in the background.

The only companion at Suga's side without fail through the days of hiking became dread, clinging to his sleeve with every step he took.

There were moments when his mind was taken off things – with Tanaka and Nishinoya to his left and right, talking and gesturing, and pulling laughter from his throat where Suga hadn't expected it.

But mostly, days blurred together, tedious episodes of endless walking broken up by small breaks and stale food, and finally, nightfall. The trees had thinned out, given way to stretching meadows, small trails leading them through billowing grass and wildflowers curving in gentle slopes at first, giving way to a more chunky, uneven look as old stone ruins became more frequent, put them on edge – those ruins had always been great hideouts for bandits, making this particular part of the hike more dangerous. Though, granted, none of them quite feared bandits, and strangely, they did not meet any soldiers, either, no matter how much progress they made.

Fukurodani explained that most of them had been stationed close to the border by now, but still, the fact baffled everyone from the forest. Living out in the forest really did make you miss some of what happened in the country, and yet Suga found himself craving nothing more than to return into its safe shelter.

As the mountains kept looming in the distance, consistent and ominous, he felt exposed and vulnerable under these wide skies. It only added to the fears eating away at his sanity, fed into his doubts.

Usually, Daichi would snap him out of this mode – distract Suga until he could make him talk about these things, taking their power away by being voiced.

But Daichi kept at the front of their group, avoiding to even meet Suga's eye, leaving the healer with nothing but aching knuckles and a brewing sense of jealousy that made it hard to tell apart where petty feelings ended and true suspicion for Fukurodani began.

At the back, where Suga made sure to keep his place, he witnessed the shift across the days: how the two groups, divided at first, mingled and meshed more and more.

Hinata stayed glued to Bokuto's side naturally, but even Yachi spoke to Konoha and Kaori with sparkling eyes and waving hands – with a confidence that usually took her longer to grow back into. Just how had they found common ground fast enough for her to open up like this?

Nishinoya and Komi were yelling and bouncing over each other, playing pranks on Tsukishima until he unsheathed his sword, offering nothing but a deadly expression, causing the troublemakers to slink away and pick on Hinata instead. At least that seemed to keep his mind off things, but Suga … he wasn't entirely certain why _he_ held back.

When people from Fukurodani approached him, he spoke to them kindly, but otherwise kept to himself, and always an eye on Akaashi.

While Kuroo knew and personally vouched for Bokuto, _Akaashi_ seemed the true threat. Behind that calm expression, Suga could sense high intelligence paired with ambition – the kind of combination that unsettled Suga in the context of raiding a castle.

Suga could not shake the sinking feeling that freeing Kiyoko and Kageyama would not be _enough_ for Fukurodani, and why would it be? What even were their motives? Why would such a highly skilled group make their way out to the forest and miraculously offer their help for absolutely nothing in turn?

The forest had a group of people much like Fukurodani to offer: highly skilled, with dubious backgrounds, quick thinkers in danger and absolutely unpredictable. What would happen when Fukurodani had gotten them into the castle?

Suga spent his nights dreaming of hazy fights breaking out in a shadowy palace, everyone he cared about used as canon fodder while Fukurodani used the distraction to follow their own agency.

No, these days really weren't kind on Suga's sanity.

All he knew was this: he couldn't rely on these people blindly to bring Kiyoko and Kageyama back. They absolutely could not lose _anyone_ in this crusade. And the only other option providing itself was to ask help of parents who had done wrong by Suga and who he loved in unspeakable ways.

The wound their betrayal had left was a badly healed mess of scars still aching on rainy days, and when Suga thought about facing them again, all he could feel at the end of the day was … fear. Beneath the anger, the bitterness. He was terrified, but knew he had to take this chance. For god's sake, those were their grandchildren at stake here. Surely that must count for something?

With each step closer to the place that used to be his home, Suga longed more for someone he could openly speak to about the fears festering inside him. But while he trusted everyone with his life, he couldn't find it in himself to burden them. Not when Hinata and Yachi were struggling themselves, when everyone was tired and worn out.

Maybe Suga just wanted Daichi.

So instead, he tried to smile his way through every cut and blister he treated, kept the talks superficial. At least he was _trying_ to keep morale up, even though Suga wasn't sure how well it was working.

“You're not really foolin' anyone, y'know.”

Suga jerked up to see Tanaka next to him, studying him with quiet worry.

Since it was no use, Suga did not even try to smile – he simply met Tanaka's gaze, let him in on his state without words. There was no need to describe what he felt approaching his parent's house to Tanaka. He'd been there from the beginning, their small little family. Back when Suga had snuck out at night to go meet them, Daichi and Nishinoya and Asahi and Tanaka.

Five of them sticking together, their goal to make life a little easier, one treated patient at a time. A bunch of starved kids with bright-eyed dreams and Suga in their midst, so naïve and sheltered and accepted by them nonetheless.

There was no point in denying how heavy the fight with Daichi weighed on his shoulders, and everything beyond – facing his parents, the city, a castle raid.

“I'm really tired,” was all he said, and Tanaka nodded in understanding that ran deep between them, and suddenly, it was easier to breathe.

For a bit, they walked in companionable silence, Tanaka sidling a bit closer with each step until Suga could feel his presence like a guarding, magnetic force right next to him. It was hard to feel scared and vulnerable with someone like Tanaka close by.

“Look, Suga, I -” he began after a while, thumbs in his pockets and kicking a pebble away. He took a deep breath, and Suga did the same, worried what was to come but knowing he deserved it.

“I don't know what happened between the two of you.”

Suga curled his knuckles in shame, bowing his head as he walked.

“But whatever it was, it's messing you up. You, Daichi, everyone else – seeing you guys not talk at all is making everyone's skin crawl. Almost worse than losing -” He trailed off, expression darkening. “I'm not sayin' you should get over it or something. It's probably hella complicated. But … I know hella complicated. Been there, done that.”

Tanaka's eyes rested on Saeko up ahead, Nishinoya's and Komi's ears firmly between her fingers, both of them no doubt squirming and begging for mercy.

Suga swallowed, because much like he did not need to spell things out for Tanaka, Tanaka did not have to for him.

Suga had been there, watching Saeko find them after all this time in the forest. For the close and trusting bond the siblings shared now, it had been a long way from when they reunited. Sometimes Suga almost forgot that.

“All I'm sayin' is … you won't get over this if you avoid each other. Talk shit out. Fight shit out if you have to. Just clear the air and get it over with.” Tanaka looked at him, eyes burning, and for a second Suga felt taken aback just how much he had grown and matured. “It hurts, but it's worth it.”

“God damn it,” Suga cursed, reaching over to get Tanaka into a headlock and drive his knuckles into his head, succeeding entirely with the element of surprise on his side.

“What the _hell,_ ” Tanaka spat, struggling against it, and Suga ended their squabble in a half-hug, feeling a first genuine smile tug at his lips. “Just when did you get so awesome?!”

“Idiot,” Tanaka snarled good-naturedly. “I've always been!”

True that.

The two of them stuck together for the remaining hours of the hike, and Suga felt himself relax and talk openly, not feeling like he had to deceive anyone.

Somehow, the lingering feeling that Tanaka was right, that confrontation was the only option, was a relief. It couldn't be worse than the silence.

 

\---

 

“May I ask you to take a look at a couple of scratches from today?”

Suga froze amidst the bustle of setting up for the night, looking up from where he was rummaging in his backpack to meet Akaashi's dark, unreadable gaze. Every fibre of him protested, yearning to seek out Daichi, but - perhaps talking openly was good advice for more than his situation with Daichi.

So Suga rose to his feet to meet Akaashi on eye level, guarded and wary. “Could your own healer not take a look?”

A little smile curled on Akaashi's lips. “I'd rather it be you.”

Well, at least Suga knew Akaashi was too smart and to stab him from behind just like that, so he followed him towards the light of a lantern, a little away from the chatter and productivity. As if prodded, Kenma materialised at Suga's shoulder, completing their odd little round with his guarded gaze. Agreement ran unspoken between the three as they took their seat in tense silence.

The scratches were mere marks of thorns, nothing bad, but Suga dipped his fingers into salve anyways, playing into the ruse bringing them together so Akaashi could gather his thoughts and break the silence.

“I realise neither of you trust me,” he said, finally. Not accusingly, a simple matter of fact. Neither Suga nor Kenma denied it.

“Most likely due to the fact that you feel like we are withholding information from you. But I assure you that we mean no harm in any way.”

Kenma snorted, a harsh sound thrashing Akaashi's polite intentions with such throwaway disdain, Suga had to bite back a startled laugh. The ' _yeah, right'_ could not have been clearer if Kenma had uttered it.

One of Akaashi's brows twitched, but his expression remained neutral otherwise. “We are not deliberately holding back information to deceive you. There's simply no point to break down a plan when we don't know anything about the fate of your friends and lack the most knowledgeable people at the table planning with us. We are, so to say, the messengers. The first priority is to get to the city as fast as possible, where we can clear all questions. Know the variables we need to know, and discuss them with the people who will actually help you infiltrate the safest place in this country.” Akaashi's dark gaze bore into Kenma first, then Suga, who met it without hesitation. “I hope you realise the full weight of what you are asking of us and the man we work for. We're going to great lengths to help you.”

“And what you want to get out of it is exactly what we're worried about,” Kenma murmured, voice laced with quiet intensity. “Nobody goes to such lengths without gaining equal amounts from it.”

Akaashi's lips curved into that subtle smile again. “Then you have nothing to worry until we reach our destination, have you? Because before that, none of us want anything from the other beyond company on an exhausting hike. Until then … perhaps try to meet the help we extended so far with a little more … gratitude.” While his voice remained pleasant, the jab sliced with razor sharp precision.

Suga bit his lip, and Kenma flinched as well. No doubt both of them were thinking what might have happened if Fukurodani had not showed up when they did – how many more they could have lost. Akaashi was right. So far, there was nothing to fear – they could decide what to do when they reached that ominous overall leader.

Besides, in the meantime, it wasn't like Suga would not try to create a plan of their own.

“A healthy dose of scepticism is what kept us alive so far,” he explained, Akaashi's stern expression softening the slightest bit. “It's a bad habit that is hard to shed. But you are right. For now, let's settle for truce.”

Kenma stared down at his fists, clenched tightly. “We _are_ grateful,” he muttered. “We just can't lose anyone else.” His voice almost broke with the emotion seeping into it, and for a moment, Suga wished they were closer – wished he could reach out and soothe him. But Kenma gathered himself fast, eyes sparking when he looked up and saw Hinata arriving on the heels of Bokuto. Awkwardly getting to his feet, Kenma bowed his head and excused himself.

Akaashi's eyes followed his way over to Hinata, and he inclined his head towards Suga. “I see the bonds between you are strong. Until a little while ago, I would not have understood your protectiveness. But the people I travel with, the people I live alongside – they taught me.”

His honest words, spoken so boldly even though Akaashi seemed to prefer not to carry his heart on his sleeves – they took Suga by surprise, but he listened with intent. Honouring such an open statement with respect was the least he could do.

“I would not put them into a situation they can't handle and put their lives at risk,” Akaashi said, meeting Suga's gaze without faltering. “And I would not put anyone you care about in that situation. That is all I can tell you.”

The ambitious streak of the man before him still made him unpredictable to Suga, but he nodded amiably. “It is more than enough for now. Thank you for your honesty.”

“Thank you for yours,” Akaashi replied, and they parted pleasantly, leaving the tension brewing between them settled for now.

Suga would definitely have to thank Tanaka again. And finally, get the second talk over with as well, riding this momentum – but he found his face falling as he found Daichi curled up and fast asleep already. So fast? How tired was he?

“Still no luck?” Kuroo asked sympathetically, clearly winding up for another talk like Tanaka's. Suga raised a palm. “Spare me. I know we should talk. We will as soon as Daichi isn't out like a light.”

Kuroo followed where his gaze had wandered before, nodding. “Alright, then. How about I help you take your mind off things instead? I got some energy to spare and you've been looking tense.”

Kuroo looked very much like he had no energy to spare, but since he offered, Suga pounced on it with gratitude. “Yes, please.”

 

\---

 

Of course both Kuroo and him regret it in the morning, waking to sore muscles turning an exhausting hike into torture instead, but at least Suga felt settled and calm. Now if only he would finally catch Daichi in a quiet moment to talk and regain some sense of normalcy, but it seemed the stubborn idiot was dead-set on ignoring him still.

Not that there were many opportunities for privacy. Tonight, hopefully. And if Suga had to yank Daichi away from the group at his earlobe.

During the course of the day Suga saw first Tanaka, then Kuroo approach Daichi and talk intently with him, so that was a petty comfort.

Suga's mind was so busy, it took him a blessedly long time to realise that the surroundings stated to seem familiar and be thrown right into a state of nausea. The small forest ahead of them, the shape of the mountains from here, the fields and scattered cottages. Suga tried to keep his eyes low, tried not to think _I'm going home_ for how wrong it felt, but the word buzzed through his mind like a mosquito, refusing to leave him be.

This wasn't _home,_ and yet it had been, once.

Tomorrow at dawn he would face his parents.

As soon as their group started setting up for the night, Suga excused himself, lacking any appetite. He got rid of his heavy backpack but kept his medical pack, the weight of it on his hip a reassurance, the way Suga could cling to the strap across his chest a comfort. It reminded him of his role in the forest – the identity he had built up.

Which felt important to remember when suddenly, he touched his fingertips to bark and got catapulted back in time by decades. For a moment, Suga tasted the bitter tang of the blueberries he had found around here, eight years old, bright-eyed and without a care in the world.

A chuckle caught in his throat, Suga could feel himself sway a little. Braced himself on the tree, took a steadying breath, and got back moving.

How strange. How terrifying. How … wondrous.

From here on, following the invisible, overgrown trail was pure muscle memory. It led him across grass and moss hiding both soil and rusty metal rotting away beneath, the tooth of time chewing with gusto on everything offered to it, slowly worn down to being unrecognisable.

His parents had always forbidden him to come here, for the danger of slipping and tearing skin on a sharp edge concealed by leaves, but the place fascinated Suga too much to stay away, even now.

The bustling city had used the ruins of the civilisation before them to build something anew - a patchwork masterpiece of mismatched materials carved into living space. People lived within and alongside remnants of a history they did not care for beyond the use they could draw from it for their lives.

In contrast, the outskirts of the city, rich enough to afford to _choose_ the material they built from, had invested money and resources into getting rid of the ruins entirely, building their houses on clear soil, ignoring that something had ever been there.

Suga had lived among and been familiar with both these approaches, but nothing had ever caught his attention as much as the places left untouched by humankind, claimed by nature and stubbornly existing on against all odds. The dying echo of a world before them, something so different from what they knew now, that used to be filled with magic and lights.

The closest he got to such a place back home was Lady's mill, and while it had its charm, it had never gotten close to anything resembling this place, tucked away so securely in this small forest. A skeleton safely cradled in nature's yearning arms, and when Suga spotted its familiar forms glinting in the moonlight, he felt himself exhale in relief and awe alike.

How he had missed it. How incredible it was to see it still standing.

When Suga closed his eyes, he could still see all of it, did not need the moonlight to remember faded colours peeking between lush green and rotting huts recognisable to a point where a childish mind had easily been able to imagine their original purpose and beauty.

Suga used to run careful fingers across shattered glass balls decorating some of the faded paintings, wondrous images showing strange machines and animals and laughing people. Inching onwards with mindful steps, he would squint through dust and pollen dancing in the sun, a wild grin on his face as he approached his favourite part about this place: the huge, steel construction of a gigantic wheel straining into the sky. Half of it had come crashing down, but its jagged edges still stretched as high as it dared, supported by vines and cobwebs reaching across from the surrounding trees. A careful balance allowing this breathtaking monument to keep existing where it stood, decorated with tiny houses, some of them still dangling into the sky, others long fallen down and nestled into the ground now.

Suga had fallen in love with one of them, ducking under its tiny roof and sitting inside the round little thing. He used to close his eyes and imagined soaring through the sky with it, carried by a huge wheel.

Awake and in his dreams, his young mind had filled this whole place with life – bled bright colours across what was left, brought the strange animals on the pictures to life, saved and restored the giant wheel that carried small houses into the sky.

Before he had met Daichi, Suga had dreamed of finding out everything there was to know about this beloved wheel, about everything that had been before, and breathe it back to life. Lucky that his father was a passionate collector, Suga had scoured their library and spent his days sneezing at the dust and marvelling at anything he could find – dictionaries with languages long forgotten, picture books, tales of magic. Instructions for strange machines with complex parts, and instructions for tiny squares that did not seem to make much sense at all. Suga had seen these things built into walls like bricks, but a part of him had always wondered what their purpose had been.

A part of him had never stopped wondering entirely what all of these things left had been intended to do, even though his life had changed, priorities had shifted. It wasn't like Suga regret any of it, but as he walked this well-known path, he could taste all these foolish dreams again. Felt the questions brush up and press against him in greeting like a friend long lost, and he embraced them in kind.

His heart beat a heavy rhythm in his chest, and Suga felt old. Older even than the years he had actually lived, tired in a way that could not be soothed by sleep.

He hesitated in his steps, his mind filled with memories of chasing fireflies against the backdrop of steel glinting in the moonlight, of hiding away in his own little skyhouse when expectations became too much to bear. Of taking Daichi's hand and leading him here, the only person Suga had ever shared this place with.

His throat felt choked up and heavy with tears, a headache pressing in behind his temples. Suga took a deep breath, shuddering through him.

Suddenly, he wished he wouldn't have to be alone for this, would have reached out and asked Daichi to accompany him. From the day he had spotted the wiry, terrified, bleeding boy through his fence and met his burning, ferocious gaze, Suga had never needed to walk alone.

How odd, that the loneliness hit him worst now as he reached the edge of what used to be his own special sanctuary, his own kingdom. If he passed by the sky wheel and headed south, he would reach the well-known gates of what used to be his home and then his prison. Tomorrow, he would face it again. Worn and changed as he was, an adult now, no longer a teenage boy fighting his parents for some freedom and agency.

Were his parents even still living there? What if they had moved?

Did his mother still drink her afternoon tea when the sun reached the edge of the table and warmed her hands along with the mug as she sat with it? Had his father restocked the library, collected more strange things for the sake of owning them, without questioning their origin?

Would they welcome him? Apologise?

Would they hurt him again?

Suga clung to his bag with force, shaking his head. No, they couldn't hurt him. Daichi would stay behind and be safe, and nothing his parents could do to him came close to the pain of what they had done to Daichi.

Their decision had forced Suga to kill a man who had only wanted to get his sister through and enable a life of peace for her, without lacking anything. And his loss had driven that bright-eyed little girl to become consumed with revenge, almost taking everything from Suga, losing herself in the end. Karasuno and Nekoma had come out unscathed, but nothing about Bren's and Scarlet's fate had ever sat right with Suga.

All this pain. All this loss. It could have been avoided if only his parents had respected his choices, or maybe tried to understand them.

He stared down at his hands. What if Daichi was right? What if Suga was being foolish, getting ahead of himself? Should he return? Would he get his closure or simply tear old wounds back open?

Taking a deep breath, he walked onwards, eyes to his sky wheel. It had tangled more with the trees around, carried a heavier load of green between its steel struts, as did all the things around. But it stood, tall and strong, such a comforting and inspiring sight still. Exhaling, Suga climbed over to the fallen house that had been his.

It seemed so much smaller now, smaller even than in his memory. Of course, he had grown, after all. The brambles grown across it were so thick, Suga had to unsheathe his knife and cut through the tangle to get inside – but he still fit the dusty little cabin.

Breathing in the thick, damp air smelling heavily of earth and time, he let his eyes fall shut and exhaled. The night around him was quiet, quiet and soothing until it wasn't.

Footsteps sounded, hesitated.

Before he moved and made himself known, Suga took a moment to smile to himself.

When he did emerge from the little house, Daichi greeted him with: “Sorry I'm late.”

It was so humble and simple and charming.

Not a powerful leader, only the man Suga had loved for as long as he could remember.

His heart stumbled and picked up pace softer, fonder. “Well, you're here now.” Suga's voice carried through the night so easily, and suddenly, he felt relieved they would be able to speak here. Away from prying eyes or ears, in spot that meant something to both of them.

He didn't have to face this alone anymore, even when there were still so many things unspoken between them.

Daichi had been smart enough to bring a lantern, and seeing the familiar lines of his face in the flickering light grounded Suga. Like coming home, truly coming home.

“I'm sorry,” Daichi blurted first, moving half a step forward with urgency, hesitation letting his steps falter. “ _I_ was the selfish one -”

“No, no.” Suga raised his hands, shook his head. “ _No,_ your behaviour was perfectly understandable -”

Unable to help it, Daichi took another step forward where Suga stood frozen, still not certain how to do navigate this talk. How to voice his thoughts. Because it was the truth – he felt sorry, and he understood Daichi's point, but he was still mad at him, and this had been brewing for … way too long now.

“Understandable doesn't matter to me,” Daichi replied, without skipping a beat. “ _You_ matter to me. This is important to you, I know I should support you – I know it's harder on you than it could ever be on me. But it's – it's hard to be supportive when I feel so terrified they'll hurt you again.”

“Hurt _me_?” Suga barked a laugh, stumbled a step closer. “They couldn't betray me more if they tried – they couldn't hurt me anymore. Not when I know you're safe. Not when I know they can't hurt _you_ or anyone else I care about.”

Daichi sighed, so close now, but neither of them dared to reach out yet, to touch the other and breach the distance, their truce too fragile, too much yet unspoken.

“They can't hurt me, Suga. You're the one they'll fuck over again. And I – I just want to keep you safe from that. We're already tasked with the impossible – you don't need more baggage. And I -”

“And you?” Suga asked, in a whisper, feeling on edge. Choked up again, because this was it – this was the thing always driving him insane, but Daichi sounded so tired and Suga didn't want to cut him off.

Daichi dropped his gaze to his feet, shifted uncomfortably. Took a deep breath and gathered himself. “I feel helpless,” he choked out. “I'm so goddamn _helpless._ ”

Suga was there to meet him as Daichi curled forwards, in on himself. Their hands came up wrapping around each other with the same ease that filled their lungs with air, and Suga supported his husband's weight. “You fool,” he whispered, gently, running his palm up and down Daichi's back. “None of this is your fault.” He said it with so much conviction, and yet it didn't reach Daichi.

“I couldn't protect them, Suga.” Instead he sounded so broken, so defeated.

Suga pulled him closer, held him more tightly. “None of us could.” This was _not_ his fault.

“What if I can't protect my people once we're in the city? In this godforsaken castle? What kind of leader am I, weak like this -”

“Wavering does not equal weakness,” Suga whispered with confidence. “You keep going anyways, doing your best. You are the strongest man I know. Nothing could change that. How many times have I told you this now?”

Daichi exhaled, breath shuddering. He buried his nose at Suga's neck, his words breathed against his skin. “I can't protect you from getting hurt again, either.”

“Fool,” Suga repeated, this time with more force. No more coddling, he _had_ it. Hands coming up to hold Daichi's face firmly in them, Suga pulled back to make sure Daichi saw and acknowledged the glare Suga gave him before he knocked their foreheads together with so much force it hurt. “You _idiot._ This is exactly what I've been meaning to tell you. You do not need to protect me. _Don't you dare._ I'm not a damsel in distress. I am not the spoiled little boy you saw kneel between the flowers, who knows nothing about the world and would get eaten alive on the streets.”

Suga pulled back again, relished in the expression of shock on Daichi's face. Finally, _finally,_ he saw him.

“Look at me, Daichi,” Suga demanded. “ _Look at me._ There is nothing soft about me anymore.” He reached down to Daichi's free hand, took it in his, squeezed with all his strength. Calloused hands, rough hands which had worked, mended, hurt, forgiven. A body littered in scars, a heart covered in even more of them. This life had hardened Suga. The times where he had been pampered and known nothing, had _been_ soft and needed protection were _so far gone._

“I'm every bit as starved and hardened and hurt and resilient as you are. I am your _equal._ And if I get hurt by my parents, then it was by my own choice. You couldn't keep me safe from that, you don't _have to._ All I ask of you is to support me when I do get hurt, or even when I don't.” Suga reached up again, gently trailed his fingers over the fading bruise on Daichi's cheeks. “And even when I am hurt, there is nothing I can't recover from with your support, with everyone's support. I am unbreakable.”

The truth of his own words hit him with force, left him wide-eyed. It blew his worries away, made all of them redundant – because nothing that would happen tomorrow would have any impact on the person that he _was._ On the life he had built up for himself. His parents could hurt him, betray him once more, but they could not take away an ounce of what Suga had built up for himself. Had protected with blood and tears and hard work.

This was _his_ family. His husband and kids and friends. Supportive and reckless and stupid and loyal and stubborn, every last one of them. And Suga loved them, with every fibre of his being.

He would do anything to keep every single member of Karasuno or Nekoma safe.

And so would they, in turn.

No matter what would happen tomorrow, what would happen in the city, what would happen in the castle. Their bonds rang true, stronger than blades and hatred and betrayal.

They would be fine. Somehow, they would be.

There was no hurt in this world they wouldn't be able to move past.

Daichi exhaled sharply, his fingers curling against Suga's jaw. “You are right,” he breathed, sounding shaken, relieved. Suga exhaled a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, terrified Daichi wouldn't _listen_ again, wouldn't understand what Suga meant to tell him. But he did, kept going, breathless. “You are right. Forgive me. It's -”

“I know you don't mean any harm,” Suga sighed, their foreheads pressed together a gentle touch now, even though slight ache lingered. Suga snorted, realising he fit right in with all these stubborn brickheads. He pressed closer into Daichi, sharing the same air. How much he had missed Daichi _hit_ him now, with force. “But it drives me insane, and it drives _you_ insane as well. You're not solely responsible for any of the people here. We look to you for guidance because we trust you, but this trust goes both ways. It has to. _Especially_ between the both of us.”

Daichi exhaled, tense and unmoving. “It's hard not to worry.”

“I'm not asking you to stop worrying.” Suga resisted the temptation to knock his forehead into Daichi's again. “I'm asking you to share responsibility with me, with the others. Look at Tanaka. Look how much Yachi has grown. Look at Saeko or how much Akiteru fits in with us now. I could go on forever how _capable_ they all are. So _trust them._ They can take care of themselves. And don't blame yourself for Kiyoko and Kageyama being taken. There was nothing you could have done. Don't blame yourself for what happened or will happen with my parents. None of this has anything to do with you, idiot. You don't carry the weight of the world solely on your shoulders, you stubborn fool.”

Daichi chuckled, a freeing sound that felt like a blossom bursting open. Some of the tension bled from his posture. “Alright,” he breathed, so simple.

It was enough. More than that. Suga could himself grin, giddy and relieved. This had been _so easy._ He couldn't believe it had taken them countless fights and a punch and so much tense silence just to speak like this.

“Alright,” Suga replied and knocked his fist into Daichi's guts with gentle care that caused some overdramatic sputtering and his husband to drop the lamp which gave in unceremoniously, leaving them in the dark.

“Why,” Daichi choked out, betrayed.

Chuckling, Suga pulled away. “Because you're my best friend. Because I missed you like hell. And because I will make it a point to punch you from now on if you take on too much responsibility or look down on me.”

“Duly noted,” Daichi wheezed, clutching his stomach. So much for the powerful leader who barely flinched at a stab wound. There weren't any words in this universe to describe how much Suga loved this idiot.

“I missed you, too.” Daichi added, much quieter, hands falling away from his stomach to reach out, and Suga met him halfway, their fingers tangling for a moment before Daichi pushed on, warm palms settling on Suga's hips and pulling him closer. “It's lonely without you,” he whispered.

Their noses were close, breath mingling again. Suga wanted nothing more than to lean in and steal a kiss, but instead, Daichi breathed another “Sorry” at him.

Suga sighed. “I am, too. No more sorries.”

“No more sorries,” Daichi echoed, and for a couple of seconds, they only breathed and relished in each other's warmth, before Suga leaned in slowly. Almost hesitant, as if it was their first kiss all over again, and he could feel the curve of Daichi's mischievous smile when their lips found each other. “Shut up,” Suga muttered against his mouth, reaching up to pinch his ribs, but Daichi's hand wrapped around his tightly before Suga could finish his ambush.

“Your tricks won't keep working on me,” he whispered playfully, squawking when Suga pinched his butt instead.

“I wouldn't be so sure about that.”

Daichi snorted and burst into ridiculously choked up chuckles, and Suga joined them, he couldn't help it. Laughing until all the pain and fear seemed almost forgotten, or at least, so much simpler to bear. “You dork,” he wheezed. “I love you. I trust you. We'll get through this.”

“Right,” Daichi replied, still breathless. “And you're right - you're brave and tenacious. You faced so much and came out stronger, so of course you'll face your parents. I'd never doubt your strength.”

“Thank you,” Suga replied, simple words that could not express how much Daichi's words meant to him, so utterly inadequate for the feeling of hope and pride filling him.

Daichi pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Suga's mouth. “Don't thank me for telling the truth. Hey, do you think the others will miss us yet?”

Suga pulled Daichi in closer, making sure he could feel the grin Suga pressed against his neck. “Oh, I'm certain they are entertained.”

 

\---

 

“I demand a circle of stories!” Bokuto declared, waving his arms through the air like the fire he had made was a miracle he had come to gift the people in exchange for amusement. His energy made the tired, excitable people perk up, and caused both Kenma and Tsukishima to immediately wrinkle their noses in disgust. Kuroo barked a laugh at the synchronised sight.

“A circle of stories?!” Hinata screeched, stars practically sparkling in his eyes. Jeez, that kid.

Most of Fukurodani rolled their eyes, but Hinata, Nishinoya and Komi seemed utterly taken in, and honestly, some stories to chase away the boredom and sore muscles and fatigue sounded nice.

“I'm in!” Kuroo called, settling around the fire. Hinata flopped down next to him, and Kuroo's breath might have hitched in his throat when Yamaguchi gingerly slid into place on his other side, not looking at him. Kuroo pressed a hand to his chest and willed his traitorous heart to calm down. Ridiculous.

“I'm always down for a good story!” Saeko hollered, dragging the whole Tanaka/Tsukishima family branch with her, Nishinoya, of course, included. That family, honestly. Kuroo almost felt a little jealous, but then Hinata shuffled to make a little more space and Kenma squeezed between him and Kuroo, pressing his shoulder to Kuroo's side like he knew what he was thinking. Kuroo pressed back in reply, unspoken and understood.

It felt peaceful, even though everyone was chattering wildly as they assembled in the circle around the fire. For a moment, Kuroo thought of Daichi out there, finally trying to patch things up with his stubborn husband, and he wished the both of them the best of luck to finally get this past them.

It would be a blessing for everyone, honestly. They were a vital backbone to the team, and their tension had only furthered everyone's pensiveness. With each day closer to the city and the verdict of what would become of Kiyoko and Kageyama – after all, could anyone guarantee they would not be executed without much pomp and glory? - everyone grew more tense. A bad, itchy feeling had been sticking to Kuroo's skin all day and settled in his guts. Having Kenma close by, quiet and warm, and listening to stories and talks was a godsend.

“Alright, alright!” Bokuto called, ever the entertainer, looking around with a wide grin. “Looks like we got everyone interested!”

“It's not like there is anything better to do,” Akaashi dead-panned, and Konoha snorted. Undeterred, Bokuto kept going. “Yo, Kuroo! Why don't we do something special!”

“Huh?” Kuroo perked up, absolutely ready to be indulged and try to entertain in turn. If tonight just someone would smile, he would be a happier man. “What do you have in mind?”

“Telling the story of our great escape!”

“The … great escape that got you captured?”

Bokuto grumbled a little, but caught himself remarkably fast. “Well, it was _your_ great escape! But I still don't know how you made it outta there without getting caught! It must've been a super awesome story!”

Kuroo shifted beneath Bokuto's intense gaze, and the other eyes on him. Absent-mindedly, he started scratching on a mosquito bite on his shin. “Uh – well, it's not a grand story.” The only one here who knew was Kenma, and that was because Kenma knew everything there was to know about him. No exceptions. “But I guess I could tell you? But then you need to trade a better story in turn.”

“Oh, I'm sure it'll be awesome!” Bokuto gushed. “Let me start explaining our situation! So, back then we were exactly as handsome as we were now, but a lot more reckless and green behind the ears! We were known as the number one thief duo! They called us super cool nicknames and -”

“Like what!” Nishinoya demanded to know.

“Uhhhh, like! Thief duo! Anyways, we were feared _everywhere.”_ Kuroo snorted, he couldn't help it. Bokuto really was making them out to be more than they had ever been. Skinny, reckless kids old enough to think they were adults, desperate enough to try anything, foolish enough to think they'd get away with it. The only kind of name they had made for themselves had been _after_ the heist on the most heavily guarded mansion at the city outskirts. But, since it had gotten Bokuto caught – well.

A reputation was not satisfying if you were the only one left to bear it.

“We were successful with the smaller business, and as brave as we were, we were ready to conquer new challenges! We knew we could handle it!”

“And then you got imprisoned,” Tsukishima muttered under his breath, causing Saeko to burst into laughter for so long that Bokuto squinted at her in offense until she finally calmed down, wiping at her eyes. Kuroo at least managed to mask his own chuckling as coughs – honestly, he felt embarrassed thinking back about the shit he had pulled. He'd been so young and foolish back then, it felt like a lifetime ago. Driven mad by grief for having lost Kenma, he'd thrown himself into any danger there was without any regard for his well-being.

It was embarrassing as much as it was sad.

Kuroo wouldn't wish himself back to that time, ever. He appreciated where he had gotten through all the pain too much. Kenma pressed against him, never too far from him, Bokuto talking across the fire from him. All the familiar faces around him, and the camp waiting for him back home.

Kuroo hadn't always been, but nowadays, he considered himself a lucky man.

“Anyways – brave, brave Kuroo and brave, brave me decided to break into the most well guarded mansion at the city's edge! Mercenaries, terrifying dogs, terrifying _cats –_ you name it, they had it! It was harder to break into than it was to break out of prison, am I right, Konoha?!”

Konoha snorted and shook his head, but Kuroo did not miss the look of utter adoration he gave Bokuto, unable to conceal it despite trying to make an annoyed impression.

Bokuto truly had found something as close to a family as Kuroo had been blessed to gather around him and be a part of. Even though Suga was right with a healthy dose of suspicion for Fukurodani's unclear motives, Kuroo could not entirely distrust them.

Not when they followed _Bokuto_ as their leader, and adored him so very much. As he kept recounting the tale of their impossible heist to the others, words even more colourful than his gestures were grand, Kuroo leaned back and simply watched the way the expressions of the people around Bokuto shifted along with his antics – a routine in it, the way people would groan and call out jabs, but make sure it never went overboard – made certain Bokuto felt admired and appreciated.

It was nice, made Kuroo feel warm and at ease, and maybe, miss home a little. As much as he loved Karasuno, he'd give the world to come home to Yaku's stern mothering and Lev's ridiculous antics and Tora's booming voice filling the whole damn clearing. But Kuroo had chosen to pursue this task to completion, and Nekoma had understood and let him go. In Yaku's hands, they would be in good care until all of them returned.

Speaking of returning … Daichi and Suga had yet to come back, which was most likely a good sign.

By now, everyone except Bokuto had eaten - he had been so busy talking, Kuroo had never gotten a word in, and felt a bit grateful for it - and started to look sleepy and ready to call it a day. As time creeped onwards, more and more people bid good night, curling up little ways away from the fire and the people gathered around it. Never straying too far, and in little groups, back towards each other.

They all had learned to sleep with fingers curled around the hilts of weapons, but at least they could find comfort in their unity.

A tired yawn ended in Kenma's expression scrunched up and sour, and he nuzzled into Kuroo's shoulder one last time before pulling himself away and tiredly shuffling over to where Hinata had curled up for the night. Very aware of the point where Yamaguchi's shoulder brushed his, Kuroo kept his eyes on Kenma as he curled up into a ball and stretched out his hand to Hinata, who seemed to be awake after all, because he reached out and laced their fingers together in quiet comfort.

It was such a bittersweet gesture, one that made Kuroo smile and his heart ache all the same. The loss Karasuno had suffered felt … way too personal to not step up and fight against it. Kuroo did know best of all what it felt like to lose someone important, even though he had been blessed enough to reunite with Kenma.

Akaashi rose to his feet now, pestering Konoha who had fallen asleep leaned against Bokuto. “C'mon, Mylord, up with you.”

“You're one to talk,” Konoha hummed back, not bothering to open his eyes or move. “I'm comfortable here.”

Bokuto chuckled warmly at the exchange, and Yamaguchi drew away, slumping tiredly against Tsukki instead, looking at the fire with half-lidded eyes, cheeks tinged pink from its heat. Tanaka and Saeko sat together, shoulders comfortably slumped against the other, ankles crossed as they talked in hushed tones. Kuroo almost hadn't thought them capable of it.

The mood around was so quiet, so undemanding, so peaceful. It was almost a shame to head to bed and give up on it – trade this feeling for a morning of aching muscles and bland breakfast.

Still poking him insistently, Akaashi finally seemed to make progress getting tired Konoha to his feet. “Don't make me jealous,” he whispered, voice soft where his words would suggest something sharp as he tugged on Konoha and finally the other man complied, slumping into Akaashi so much, if he had demanded more support he might as well have been carried.

With an impatient expression contrasting the gentle way Akaashi supported him anyways, the two of them disappeared from the light of the fire, followed by a gaze like a kicked puppy from Bokuto. Kuroo chuckled, shaking his head. It was so obvious Bokuto wanted to be pampered as well, and yet, he stayed.

Saeko and Tanaka followed soon after the two, as if prompted by them. Finally, Bokuto pushed himself to his feet and walked around the dying fire, plopping down next to Kuroo. “Hey,” he muttered, careful not to disturb the sleeping people around. “When they took me – how'd you get away? You still haven't told me!”

Kuroo chuckled at Bokuto's pout, inclining his head. “It's still not an awesome story. After we split up, I just hid away. When I knew you'd been taken -” He faltered, thoughts catching. Opened and closed his fists, gaze on his fingers. Slowly shaped a fist again with his right hand, and felt a fond smile tug at his lips. “Actually, I was pretty messed up. We were getting up to some dangerous shit in combination, but without you and without Kenma – I had nothing left to lose. It's a bit of a miracle I'm still alive. I honestly didn't care at all.”

“And still they never caught you,” Bokuto murmured with a sense of wonder. “How about that.”

“Actually, it was thanks to this – thanks to my – thanks to stupid Oikawa that I got outta there unscathed. I ran into that pipsqueak when the guards came for me. He insulted me, I punched him. The adrenaline got me back kicking, woke some survival instincts I thought I'd lost. Suddenly, I cared and ran like hell.”

“Woah.” Something entirely different had settled on Bokuto's expression, something that seemed obviously starstruck. Huh? It really wasn't enough of an awesome story to warrant this. But now that Kuroo had gotten talking about Oikawa, he couldn't really stop. “We kept each other sane, y'know. I could see it in his eyes from the start, that he was the same as me – that he'd lost everything. We took all our frustration out on each other, every time our paths crossed, and eventually … we grew close. So if there's anyone to blame for me being unscathed, it's that airhead.”

“Are you … Kuroo, did you seriously punch a prince in the face?”

“What?” Kuroo barked a laugh, reminded of old times. “Nah, I used to call him a prince for his soft hands, but he wasn't actually a prince. I probably would've called Suga a prince if I met him back then.”

“Are you not talking about Oikawa Tooru?” Bokuto asked, an odd intensity to his gaze.

The name struck Kuroo to his bones. “Yeah? That's him. Curly hair, grin like he's gonna eat you up. He's probably still roaming -”

“He was the second prince.”

Kuroo only blinked at Bokuto. What the hell? “Are you trying to tell me I punched an _actual_ prince. That I -” He cut himself off there, rearranging all of Oikawa's behaviour and attitude in his head. Buried his face in his hands. Holy _shit._ “That asshole never breathed a word! I'm gonna fuckin' punch him again if he ever has the misfortune of -”

“Kuroo,” Bokuto murmured, his voice lingering with a sadness so deep, so infectious, it put Kuroo on edge even before his friend kept going. “He _was_ the second prince. I'm sorry.”

 

 

\---

 

When they finally made it back, Daichi had expected quiet – not the clattering of swords.

Suga squeezed his hand before he let go, both a comfort and a declaration of war on whoever had dared to attack at this unholy hour. The two of them ducked away, slowly inching towards the camp.

When Daichi spotted the people still peacefully curled up on their cots, he shared a confused glance with Suga. They inched onwards, spotting the backs of people they _knew_ at the fire, burning brighter than it should have at this time. There was no need to feed it when everyone was asleep anyways. Only … barely anyone was properly asleep. Two whirling figures were crossing blades at this ungodly hour, and sitting ways away at the fire were Bokuto, a safe distance away Kenma, and a little closer to his right, Yamaguchi with his knees drawn up.

If they could sit calmly like this, there couldn't have been real danger, so Daichi gave up the sneak approach and marched over, wanting to know what on earth was up, Suga on his heel, tense and quiet.

The noisy clatter of the swords left Daichi wondering who had endorsed this. Weren't they disturbing the sleep of everyone around? Granted, since Suga would seek out his parents tomorrow morning, it would be a day off wandering about, but … that made sleep even more important, didn't it?

The closer they came, the more apparent the tension in the three at the fire was – they sat like they _were_ watching an ambush. Like something horrible was happening. Suga and Daichi traded a glance. “What's going on?” Suga asked, and Daichi realised first that the people crossing blades were Kuroo and Tsukishima, and then the crestfallen faces staring back at him. What struck Daichi the most was Kenma's expression – he'd never seen him this wrecked. Then, Daichi realised Yamaguchi's eyes were swimming with tears.

They had been gone for a few hours at _most._

What on earth - ?

That moment the sound of metal scraped across metal tore the air, followed by an inhumane growl bleeding into a scream torn from Kuroo's throat. All three winced, and Daichi realised the strange tension in the air, now – the sense that most people in this camp were wide awake. All laying quietly in their beds, listening in, unable to do anything.

Someting had settled across all of them like a heavy blanket, smothering instead of comforting, and it seemed to stem from whatever caused Kuroo pain to a level that made him sound this _gone for._

Daichi stumbled onwards, heart racing and nails digging into his palms. “What on _earth_ happened,” he demanded to know.

Bokuto looked down at his palms in his lap, head bowed. Daichi had known him for a few days, and never seen Bokuto this lifeless before. Hadn't expected to see him like this. Voice void of inflection, Bokuto muttered: “He found out someone important to him didn't make it.”

Daichi faltered, looked back up to where Tsukishima parried without much effort while Kuroo fought with wide, chunky, desperate movements. Flinging his sword like it was the only thing keeping him sane, whirling and missing, stumbling and struggling on.

And occasionally, another broken noise, or a helpless, angry growl.

Suga put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it, as Daichi was forced to watch his best friend _hurt._ Hurt so obviously, be so far from okay, and with nothing he could do. Which friend? What on earth? They had been gone for … only hours. How could this have happened?

Yamaguchi leaned his forehead on his drawn up knees, and Kenma kept his eyes on Kuroo, like he was holding vigil for him, guarding him with that intense amber gaze.

“Is everyone in camp alright?” Suga asked softly.

Bokuto nodded, lips pressed together tightly.

So nobody they knew.

Another scream ripping from him, Kuroo yanked his sword over his head and swung it down on Tsukishima with force, who met the blow without wavering. Instead, with a screech and a clang, Kuroo's sword slipped from his grasp, bouncing off Tsukishima's and tumbling to the ground. Robbed of his agency, Kuroo crumpled where he stood. Daichi jerked in place, wanting to inch forwards, but Kenma's quiet voice held him back. “Not yet.”

Instead, Tsukishima carelessly dropped his weapon and met Kuroo on his knees, pulling him roughly against his chest.

Daichi watched them, and he envied Tsukishima for being the one to comfort Kuroo, to help let his walls crumble and ease him through it. If only Daichi had been here, if only -

“Don't think unnecessary things,” Suga murmured, voice strained with the same pain, with the same helpless frustration of watching Kuroo hurt and be helpless against it. “He won't just need Kei this one time. He's going to need all of our support from here on out.”

“Yeah,” Daichi muttered, nodding, and he had a feeling a sense of agreement washed across their little group watching, united all of them in this.

Kuroo wasn't alone, he would never be. They'd get him through this. Hadn't that been what Suga had told Daichi before? That there was no hurt any of them wouldn't recover from with the right support?

Daichi just wished that sentiment wouldn't be put to the test so early.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally split this chapter into half already and made it a neat 6k but then Suga had to socialise with everyone and made it ANOTHER long mess. Gosh. This chapter hurt to write in every way possible and right now I am sick and feel so very tired.
> 
> I also made myself sad as heck with this stupid storyline so if you wanna talk happy things with me hmu at [tumblr](http://lemon-ink.tumblr.com/) or [twitt](https://twitter.com/citruswriting), I'd appreciate it (as I appreciate all your support <3 You make pushing through worthwhile!)


	11. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which life and death dance closely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever have so much to say you don't know what to say, so you just leave it?  
> Yeah.

Yachi hummed quietly to herself as she braided the pearl into his hair with gentle fingers, and Suga kept his eyes closed as the familiar motion soothed his jagged nerves. He concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest, the soft murmur of the stream close by.

Daichi's presence, and Hinata's quiet attention close by. The very core of his family.

“Now you look more like yourself,” Yachi told him, her voice tinged with guarded satisfaction as she stepped away.

Hinata tugged at the neat, clean hem of Suga's sleeve with a frown. “Still weird, though.”

Daichi moved as if to slap the back of their heads, but only ended up ruffling Hinata's and Yachi's hair.

“Don't forget,” he said, bright-eyed for Suga. “You're ours.”

It made Suga smile.

 

\---  


“You're sure you don't want me to accompany you?” Daichi asked.

Suga knocked a fist into his gut and dropped a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Don't worry. I won't be alone.”  


\---

 

Suga stopped just short of Kuroo, who pretended to be asleep slumped against a tree. The tension in his jaw was too prominent to fool anyone.

Suga nudged him with his foot. “Would you like to accompany me on my way to -” He faltered only for a moment. “- the place I used to call home?”

Suga was not Kenma, who knew Kuroo well enough to see every ache of his he was so desperately trying to hide away. Or anyone else who kept fussing and worrying over Kuroo, meaning so well but ultimately not making it easier for him. It was a cruel joke that Kuroo had been forced to learn something like this at a time where he could not slip away as he might have back home, forced to grieve under the watchful eyes of a dozen people.

At the very least, Suga could offer what they both needed for a bit – peace of mind for the others, knowing them not alone.

Peace and quiet for them as they struggled with their own demons.

Kuroo cracked an eye open. “You wanna go emotional and buddy-buddy on me?”

“None of that. I just don't want to walk alone.”

Kuroo got to his feet and followed him.  


It was the strangest walk through time, the silence between them heavy and loaded as they carried their grief along with them, step after step.

The familiarity of his surroundings choked Suga up, but he was grateful for Kuroo's quiet company. They did not speak a word, and Suga had a feeling it soothed the both of them.

When the heavy iron gates came into sight, Suga exhaled shakily. The mansion had aged as had he, ivy clinging to it in a more heavy embrace and the paint peeling at the windowsills, but other than that … it was still the same old house. He could see the window of the library, where he used to sit curled up and look out over the gates, heavy books cradled in his arms. Eventually, Suga had begun to look for the frame of the boy from the city lurking around the flowers. Daichi.

The memory brought a smile to Suga's face he wasn't sure was sad or happy. Perhaps both.

He reached up, curling his fingers around the cool iron of the gate. He was a stranger now.

Suga took a deep breath, thought of his fingers tracing Daichi's cheeks. _I am unbreakable._

“Want me to go inside with you?” Kuroo asked. He traced the elegant iron curves next to Suga's hand. “Promise I can be trusted around them.”

Suga sent Kuroo a lingering sideways glance.

He had not been there for all the pain and suffering Suga's parents had caused. But as Daichi's best friend and a fellow victim of Scarlet's revenge, Kuroo did not seem entirely unbiased in meeting the people at the root of all their near-death experiences and countless, countless scars.

Suga had never once considered to have anyone accompany him past these iron gates.

But somehow, he found his mouth moving: “Are you certain?”

Kuroo met his gaze, his eyes much clearer now. “This is important to you. Of course I am certain.” Kuroo reached out, clapping his back roughly. “And stand straight. You look lost since you touched that gate.”

Suga wanted to snap something back but realised his back had straightened. Kuroo had been right about that.

“You're Karasuno's healer. Hold your head high, you got enough to be proud of.” Suga liked the spark in Kuroo's eyes, still dull, but there and real. “I haven't spent months teaching you to kick Daichi's ass for you to falter here. Let's do this.”

Suga steeled his shoulders, and pulled the doorbell. They waited a couple of anticlimatic heartbeats before a servant came to them across the yard, her steps curt and her eyes guarded. It almost made Suga chuckle. Of course, he looked no ounce of nobility anymore, and Kuroo looked like he'd been dumped into the gutter and yanked back out by the hair. What a pair they made. At least Suga looked infinitely cleaner and less wild, in comparison to him.

He had to force back a hysterical bark of laughter at that.

“Yes?” the woman asked, distrust in her eyes and posture. “We don't associate with beggars. There is nothing here for you.”

Suga and Kuroo traded a glance.

“Would you convey a message for me to the masters of this household?” Suga forced himself to speak the words calmly, not spit them out like poison. “Sugawara Koushi is back and wants to speak with them.”

A flicker of disbelieving recognition passed over the servant's face.

Apparently Suga wasn't dead enough to his parents to never be mentioned again. Perhaps this was a good sign.

“I shall ask them,” she replied curtly, and bustled away. For a moment, Suga allowed himself to slump and stumble a step closer to Kuroo, who wordlessly squeezed his shoulder.

Suga shot him a crooked attempt of a smile. “How much of a chance do I have for them to have just forgotten me completely?”

Kuroo snorted, a small sound that delighted Suga, and poked his spine to remind him to stand up straight.

 

\---

 

“Kenma!”

Kenma blinked slowly, turning his head to find Hinata bright-eyed right next to him, crouching on face-level. Bit by bit, this world came back to him - he familiar hazel of Hinata's eyes, the smell of the earth around him. All Kenma had seen in his mind was Kuroo's wrecked expression, the bags under his eyes, the black grief in his heart. He exhaled. “Mmh?”

“Is touch alright?”

Kenma barely considered, nodding , because for Hinata the answer was pretty much always yes. The fact that he still asked meant the world.

Hinata broke into a cheerful grin probably just meant to put Kenma at ease, grabbing his wrist and hauling him to his feet. “Come train with me! Bokuto doesn't have time so I need someone to supervise my progress!”

Kenma looked around, noticing the absence of a couple of the Owls, but a bunch of other people would've been free to 'supervise'. It was clear Hinata just wanted to take his mind off things, and even though Kenma's smile didn't quite reach his lips, it was the closest he had felt to ease since …

He let Hinata lead him, and plopped down in the grass next to him.

“Look, look! So far I've only been through a couple of sparring drills, but I'll be allowed to learn some actual tricks once I got this down!”

Hinata started doing push-ups – the mere sight tired Kenma out – and then pushed himself up erratically, clapping as fast as he could and catching himself back on his hands awkwardly. Kenma could see the way he fought not to wince, and pushed off with more force another time, clapping hastily and landing much better this time around. “See!” he called, triumphantly, and tried the trick another time, but he got so excited he looked to Kenma as he did, and fell on his face. Kenma snorted, and Hinata beamed from his place crumpled on the ground. He rolled over, grinning face and messed up hair in the grass next to Kenma's knee.

“That's better.” Hinata reached up to poke his cheek. “I'm gonna make you smile more.”

Kenma covered Hinata's eyes with his hand, smiling to himself as Hinata squawked.

“Please,” he said, quietly, knowing Hinata heard him, and that his smile was for Kenma.

 

\---

 

Yamaguchi only realised his fingers were trembling after he had emptied his quiver into the nearby trees. He'd made shallow cuts into the bark to mark targets, striking precisely until he lost himself to the feeling of shooting arrow after arrow.

When he lowered his bow, his head felt clearer.

“I'm not gonna help collecting all these,” Tsukishima said behind him. Yamaguchi turned in time to catch Yachi elbowing him in the ribs, a gesture full of casual familiarity that caught Yamaguchi off guard. Tsukishima squinted at Yachi, looking mildly disgruntled, and that was that.

Somewhere along the way, Yachi had decided to confide in Tsukishima, and somehow, Yamaguchi had completely missed it He bit his lip, trying not to feel jealous.

It seemed everyone always found someone else to trust with their grief, and he was left on the sidelines, watching helplessly. He yearned to offer comfort, and yet – he never knew what to do.

_Weak,_ a voice in his head said, full of savage glee.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, sharp and loud enough to catch Yamaguchi's attention. Yachi gently took the bow from his trembling hands. She tilted her head up, meeting his eyes not with pity, but a profound sadness that felt older than the both of them. With one glance, she recognised his struggle, and it left him vulnerable.

He opened his mouth, and closed it again.

Yachi curled her hands over his aching fingers. “Please take care,” she asked.

It was enough to make Yamaguchi want to bend over and cry, but he refused to be weaker than he felt already. “I am,” he forced out. Tsukishima clicked his tongue again.

Yamaguchi lowered his head, a part of him telling him to yank himself away from Yachi, leave his friends behind, keep the words on the tip of his tongue for himself. But if he didn't admit it to those two, he would forever keep that thought stuck inside himself like a shard buried into his flesh. He took a deep, shaky breath. “I don't know how to help him at all.” He hated how his voice wavered. “I care, but I'm useless in the end.”

Yachi strained up on her tiptoes and pulled him down into a fierce embrace. “That's fine,” she told him, her voice so strong. Just when had Yachi become such a … force? It felt like everyone had bounded onwards, grown and evolved, and Yamaguchi was still stuck in the same place. “You don't have to be anything. Just be there for him.”

But Yamaguchi wanted to be something. Not just anyone, he wanted to be _someone_ to Kuroo.

His arms came up weakly, embracing Yachi back. She was small and fierce and warm, and even when the storm in his heart did not quiet down, he felt better with her there.

Tsukishima roughly slapped his back, the touch lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary. It was such a sentimental gesture for Tsukki that Yamaguchi chuckled into Yachi's hair.

“Kuroo doesn't need coddling. He doesn't need special treatment.” Yamaguchi tensed up. Oh. Tsukishima wasn't done yet, his voice merciless. “Life goes on. He'll get over it. Don't make it harder on him by treating him like a frail egg. He's tougher than that.”

Yamaguchi sagged against Yachi, shame unfurling inside him hot and merciless. How had he gotten so caught up in trying to help without realising he was being as annoying as his neighbors used to be, in the wake of his mother's death? Fussing and acting as if pity could help anything. Empty gestures that only made _them_ feel better.

“Make your usual moony eyes at him and it'll be fine.”

Yamaguchi kicked his foot back to hit Tsukishima's shin lightly, who stepped away. “Get some rest,” he barked, but Yamaguchi knew him well enough to understand the _there, all better_. Tsukishima headed down a small path, and Yachi slid from Yamaguchi's hug to take his wrist and tug him along. It was a simple little space a bit away from the murmur of their make-shift camp, and his friends pushed him down between them.

A twinge of that annoying jealousy was still there, but it eased in the gentle sunlight and with Yachi's gentle chatter to keep him company. He closed his eyes, realising only now that they had been burning with exhaustion from the night he spent sitting stiff, helpless vigil a safe distance from Kuroo's raging grief.

He did not remember sprawling out, let alone falling asleep, but when he awoke a while later, stiff and a bit disoriented, Yachi was dozing leaned against a tree next to him, and Tsukishima had set his quiver next to him, all arrows neatly sorted into it.  


\---  


Konoha flicked the back of his head before he sat down next to Bokuto, who did not look up, but kept his gaze listlessly on his open palms in his lap.

Konoha pressed against him and waited until Bokuto was ready to speak.

“It wasn't meant to be like this.”

He sounded small, and Konoha had always hated it when a person like him sounded so much less than he _was._ “It's not like you killed Oikawa yourself.”

Bokuto flinched. Damn, that came out harsher than intended. “At least he knows the truth now.”

“Does he?” Bokuto looked up at him, tired and worn. “Do any of them?”

The burden Fukurodani carried had worn on them for a while, way before they had been tasked with the mission to recruit the forest clans. But Bokuto was taking it the hardest. Because he was a fool, plain and simple. He threw his heart into loving and caring as if it was safe, as if it would not make him so much more vulnerable to loss and sacrifice.

Konoha thought of falling asleep between Akaashi and Bokuto, choking on laughter with Yukie and Kaori, helping Komi in pranking Saru, and Washio's quiet company.

What a hypocrite he was.

He wrapped an arm around Bokuto, who slumped into him as if a small touch like this could truly soothe his aching heart. Their cause was made up of idealists, but Bokuto was the worst of them all. It was the thing Konoha most loved about him, and what he hated the most, too. He'd never taken well to seeing Bokuto suffer.

“They'll know tomorrow,” Konoha said, trying to be soothing. Akaashi was so much better at this. Comforting Bokuto. “Let our leader explain it to them. It's not like we're forcing them to help us.”

“Feels like we are,” Bokuto mumbled. “You and I both know they'll do anything to get their lost ones back. Even start a revolution, if they have to.”

“It's not a start.” Konoha's hold on Bokuto tightened. “This has begun long ago. We will just be seeing it to an end. It was Oikawa who started the revolution. If Kuroo wants to honour him at all, he will fight with us.” Konoha furrowed his brows. “All of them. They've been hiding in the forest long enough. Can they really be happy this way? Ignoring the injustice and just living as far away from it as possible? It's not like revolution wouldn't mean a new era for the forest clans, too.”

Bokuto stayed quiet for a long while, and Konoha did not need to see his face to know Bokuto's disapproval. That was why it caught him even more off guard when Bokuto did not comment on it, and instead asked: “Do you want to go back home so badly?”

The backlash of that question left him nauseous. Konoha buried his nose in Bokuto's hair and closed his eyes, taking his time to examine his feelings.

The rage and shame he had felt, back then, when they had first met - a duke of Jouzenji, come in a mission of peace. Tossed into the castle’s dungeon like a prisoner, set to be executed. Merely a pawn in a war, rather than the first envoy of peace. Between the grime and rats and cots, the only bright thing had been Bokuto’s eyes, his cellmate. Konoha had loathed him, as he had loathed everything in this wretched country.

But Bokuto had also kept him somewhat sane, pacing up and down in that hellhole. Torn between knowing that Queen Misaki would not take the bait and allow war to rage across their small country for the sake of one puny duke,  and terrified that his death would be the first domino to fall, taking thousands with him.

It had been a dark time, and Konoha had longed to smother his cellmate. All his foolish, idealistic ideas. And the others there - Fukurodani, a little rebel group as puny as Konoha’s life - yearning to change so much, and failing to be worth more than being hanged.

The prison had swarmed with their ideas and discussions. Back then, Konoha had not known their secret codewords - had not realised they were planning an escape, and planning on busting Bokuto out along with them. Konoha had simply been lucky that Bokuto insisted on taking him along, too, because for every ounce of hatred he festered for Bokuto, he was met with affection.

Konoha had followed Bokuto, and he had followed Fukurodani. Their foolish beliefs. He had learned to fight like them, speak like them, always knowing he would change Shiratorizawa’s ways before the war could break out and ruin his country, or he would die trying.

And then he would return.

They had been so close, five years ago. Konoha had trusted in Oikawa to be the sensible leader this rotten country needed to recover. Watching him slain, their cause die along with him … it had cut deeper than anything Konoha had ever witnessed.

Cut so deep, he had surrendered all his rational caution. Their tears had not even dried on their cheeks before he had kissed both the men that had gotten under his skin, had become his home. They were all still breathing. They would see it through this time.

And after?

Konoha did not know. Whether his loyalty rested with Jouzenji, the place he grew up, the soil he sprouted from - or Fukurodani. His makeshift family. His family, his lovers. His mind told him he would return, but his heart … his heart was foolish.

“I don't know,” he whispered, truthfully, and he could feel Bokuto's whole body tense. “You'd still have Akaashi,” he muttered, words slipping from him faster than he could reel them in, recoiling from the sting of voicing his fear. That it wouldn’t matter - that Bokuto and Akaashi would be happier, without him, once he returned. As it should be.

“Hey,” Bokuto said, not an ounce of his dejected mood anymore. His voice was brittle with intensity, and when he pulled away, his eyes made the breath hitch in Konoha's throat. “I'm going to make you stay,” Bokuto promised, so dark it almost sounded like a threat. He reached up, cupping Konoha's cheek, his palm burning. “We'll change this world at any cost, and then I'll make you stay with us.” His fingers tightened behind Konoha's neck, and he pulled him in, press of his lips hot and demanding and so rough it shook Konoha to his core, but he did not pull back. Maybe he wanted this, to be persuaded. Maybe his heart had always wanted to stay. Why else had he allowed himself to act on his feelings for Bokuto and Akaashi?

He closed his eyes and allowed Bokuto to kiss him, became wax in his hands waiting to be shaped to Bokuto's liking.

Maybe his reason to keep going, to wake up and work and try to do the impossible, put his faith into another leader who might end up dead at the end of this crusade – maybe this reason had long ceased to be the greater good, a higher cause.

Maybe he was the biggest hypocrite of them all.  


\---

 

Suga pried off his shoes under the watchful gaze of the unknown servant, who still had not deemed it necessary to introduce herself and grazed neither of them with anything beyond icy silence. It said a lot about how welcome he was in this house, he reckoned.

He looked to Kuroo for help, ‘This was a mistake’ etched into Suga’s expression, but Kuroo’s steady gaze told him 'You chose this, see it through'.

It grounded Suga enough to follow the servant girl leading the way, even though he would not have needed to. He could have found his way here blindly.

He _knew_ this house – knew the thick rugs and all their patterns, the smell enveloping him that had almost knocked him off his feet, until Kuroo wolf-whistled in provocation about the high-class furniture and brought him back to the present.

Without Kuroo’s steady presence at his back, Suga would’ve probably thrown up or bolted already. He still might, feeling sick to his stomach as he approached the door to the dining room, where his parents would usually welcome guests.

Guests. He was nothing but a stranger now. He had turned his back on this house and never looked back, and yet, somehow only the nice memories kept flooding him. The feeling of walking barefoot over these rugs, the scattered marks documenting his growth at the doorway, the smell of the small library his father had accumulated and Suga missed suddenly, aching for the chance to just spend another afternoon in the dancing dust of the room, curled up at his window and lost in thought and study. It had been a privileged life, a comfortable life.

Suga had been braced for nasty memories. Remembering the good things threw him off balance.

And when he saw both his parents sitting at the dining table, he simply stopped breathing. He froze where he stood, Kuroo taking only a half-step further to stand at his back, a reassuring presence.

Suga met his father's guarded stare, and startled when his mother wordlessly pushed herself up, chair almost toppling over with her momentum. “Koushi,” she choked out, the name throwing Suga for a loop because he had left it behind like this house, this family. And then his mother rushed across the room – his mother did not rush, she never rushed – and suddenly, he was crushed in an embrace. “Koushi,” his mother repeated, and Suga realised he was a bit taller now than he had been back then, when he'd last seen her. His hands came up numbly to rest on her back, a gesture as uncertain as his emotions tearing at him. He did not know what he felt, if he had a right to feel joyful about this when he could not forgive his mother, if his relief to be welcomed was something he _should_ feel. He didn't know what the right thing was. He didn't know anything anymore.

“It's you,” his mother rasped and pulled away, holding him at arm's length to look him up and down. “Gods, you look like a wild thing.” Her gaze rested on Kuroo, looking him up and down with much more disdain. “And so does your …” she trailed off, and Suga braced his shoulders at the implications in her voice.

“I married Daichi.” It was a protective, defiant reflex. He hadn't planned this to be the first words he told his parents, but it felt good, it felt right. “I simply did not take him along because I wouldn't have you hurt him again.”

“Why are you here?” his father snarled.

His mother only stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. Suga could not tell why she seemed so scandalised - Suga daring to speak the truth so bluntly, or the fact that all the efforts to break Suga away from Daichi had been futile. Not even time had broken them apart.

Suga felt the gentle weight of the pearl Hinata had made and Yachi had woven into his hair rest against his cheek. Kuroo was still a solid warmth behind him.

Why was he here? “Because I thought maybe I was ready to forgive you.”

His father rose, brows furrowed. Time had greyed his temples, but it had not changed an ounce of the frustration and anger he regarded Suga with. His son would never be anything but a disappointment to him. A cold smile curled on Suga’s lips at the realisation.

“You dare return to this house?” He made a huge, choppy gesture to indicate both Suga and Kuroo. “Drag another streetrat with you, strut in here like you still have a place with us?”

“Hey.” Kuroo stepped forwards, standing beside Suga now, their shoulders pressed together. Suga could feel his tension, even through the small touch. “I'd like to think of myself as more of a cat than a rat,” Kuroo said, as if making idle chit-chat, but Suga could hear the anger framing those cheerful words and it put him on edge. Kuroo had promised to _behave._ “I have also met literal street rats with more manners than you.”

“Kuroo,” Suga hissed, but it was half-hearted, when he saw  the way his father's eyes bulged, mouth opening and closing. Way too satisfying. Suga braced himself for whatever his father would come up with - whatever insult he’d toss next, and yet -

“Shut up.” His mother stood unwavering, levelling her husband a cool gaze, then Kuroo. “Both of you. Mary, would you prepare a snack for our guests? I am far from done with this.”

The servant bowed and left, clearly bummed about having to leave the juicy family reunion behind.

“If you can't behave, I will send you out, too.” The words weren't directed at Kuroo, but at Suga's father. A delighted smile tugged at Suga's lips.

It seemed _some_ things changed.  


The meal was the tensest Suga had ever witnessed, and he had sat through dinners his parents had set up to find Suga a fiancée while he could do nothing but long for Daichi.

The only one trying to break the thick silence was Kuroo, and his attempts were met with deafening silence from Suga’s father, and awkward little chuckles from his mother until Kuroo gave up and dug into the food instead.

Realising that it would have to be him to break the ice, Suga steeled his shoulders yet another time. His mother watched him with interest, seeming almost hungry for him to speak, and he focused on her rather than his father. “I'm here because of my kids. Your grandchildren.”

His mother gasped softly, putting a hand over her heart. His father, predictably, snorted in disdain. “You and that punk pulled some outta the gutter or what? Even if I still considered you my son I wouldn't accept some bastard children into my family.”

Suga slammed his fist down on the table,startled by his mother slamming her fork down with force. “Would you stop it! Leave if you can't behave yourself! Koushi, dear, please tell me more.” There was a softness in his mother's gaze Suga never thought he'd see again. Hadn't since he had been a child himself. “You have children?”

[Dad] kept glowering, but stayed quiet. Kuroo scoffed into his pastry but didn't comment. Suga bit back a sigh. “We found them orphaned in a village raided by soldiers – right after -” _We left the city because you tried to kill Daichi and take me back by force._ Awkward.

Suga remembered Daichi tracing the scar across his own face, gaze a bit forlorn but smile true as he asked Suga: “Wasn't it worth it for finding the both of them? Who knew what would've become of them if we hadn't been there?”

But that didn't mean Suga would _thank_ his parents for forcing them to such extremes. He forced himself to keep speaking, to stay on track. He was here with a purpose. “Obviously we were way too young to take care of kids, but we tried our best – we had help from friends.”

“They came out fantastic,” Kuroo cut in. “Good kids. Fierce and bright. Loyal.” He sent Suga a side-glance. “Like your son.”

Suga turned to him with a bemused expression for the flattery, taken aback by the lack of bravado. Kuroo semed earnest and sincere, and it warmed Suga's heart. “You give me too much credit.”

“He does,” his father cut in, and winced a second later. Suga blinked owlishly. If he didn't know any better, he'd thought his mother had kicked him under the table. But she was way too collected for something like that … wasn't she?

“I told you, behave yourself or _leave._ ” She turned back to Kuroo, giving him a nervous once-over as she smoothed out her pants. “And … you are?”

Kuroo raised his hands, waving the implications of her words off. “Just a family friend here for moral support.”

Her gaze on him wavered a second longer, before she nodded slightly, apparently satisfied with that.

Suga pushed on: “Their names are Hinata and Yachi. They chose to go by their family names to honour the memory of their families. They are good kids. As are …” He faltered. How could he explain the ties of his family to a people who only believed in blood relation and stiff rules? “Kiyoko, and Kageyama. You know, my whole … family.” He sat straighter, something bursting free inside him, something filled with love and passion. He tossed it to the wind, stopped searching for the _right_ words, and he just began explaining and talking. About life out in the forest, taking care of each other, the trials they had overcome and the most mundane little things.

Even when his mother looked shocked, and scandalised, her attention never wavered.

His father pushed himself up and left, but Suga did not care, because his mother listened, and he got to share all this – he talked and talked and talked, and when he finished, he felt warm and satisfied as he leaned back, smile a bit sheepish now. “They are … my family. So … they could be yours. If you still accepted me as your son.”

His mother reached out awkwardly, patting Suga's hand once, and pulled away again.  “Koushi. I don't agree with your choices. I'm not sure I ever will. I … don’t understand what you call your family.”

His expression shuttered closed, and Suga pulled away slightly.

“But -” his mother added, hasty as she noticed his inward retreat. “I don't agree with … our choices, either. It is as it is. You are … family.”

Suga felt something like hope. And then the door opened, and his father stepped in, two bulky men at his side. Suga's brows rose and Kuroo tried to hide a snort as a cough. “Incredible,” he muttered under his breath, and Suga wholeheartedly agreed.

“What is the meaning of this?” his mother demanded to know, but Suga was honestly too baffled to be offended. This was … he couldn't believe how immature his father was being.

“You do realise I am an adult now, right?” Suga asked. “What do you plan to do, lock me up? Keep me here by force? I'll never be the son you want me to be.”

“You'll at least be punished,” his father said.

“You will tell these gentlemen to leave our mansion or I will _forget myself -_ ”

Suga gestured at his mother to stay put, and faced Kuroo. “Would you allow me?”

Kuroo tilted his head, his grin carnivorous. “They're all yours.”

Suga cracked his knuckles. Then he’d demonstrate what a fierce thing he had become.

  


\---  


“Don't you think they've been gone too long? It's already getting dark.”

Tanaka sighed and dug in his pockets for the coins he owed Nishinoya for this one. He'd definitely believed Daichi would take longer to cave and whine again, but alas, here they were.

“Suga can take care of himself,” Tanaka offered. He had another bet riding, worth double what he’d lost. Putting Daichi at ease was important for Daichi’s sake and Tanaka’s wallet.

Nishinoya shot him a victorious grin, expression crumbling when Saeko slapped the back of his head. “Whatever your boys are doing, I know it's mischief. Stop it. And you, Daichi.” Saeko cuffed him across the head, too. “Stop pacing. You're making everyone nervous for no reason. Suga and Kuroo will be fine. Shouldn't you of all people know?”

Daichi's pacing finally came to a halt, and he nodded stiffly. “Damn, you're right. Suga would punch me for this.”

Saeko nodded, satisfied. She clapped Tanaka's hand in passing, who grinned in victory. Split benefits, but at least Nishinoya wouldn't take this one home. He’d won a bet too many and enraged both his siblings.

Not that they got to settle that debt, when Suga and Kuroo entered the clearing a moment later, their bags heavy with ominous bumps in them. Tanaka's interest was piqued, and he could feel Nishinoya shift next to him. Daichi just hurried over and got greeted with a jab to his ribs and then pulled into a hug. Kuroo shook his head next to them, something like a smile on his face. Suga sure was something. Got the cat leader’s smile back, and carried a breath of fresh air with him.

Tanaka moved closer, wanting to ask about the bags and whatever they had grabbed from the filthy rich mansion.

“You should've seen it,” Kuroo gushed to Daichi. “Suga just took them both out without batting an eyelash. The look of his father! I wish I could've captured it forever.”

“Who got busted by Suga?” Tanaka asked, eyeing Suga rather than the bag. Suga shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Just two guards my father somehow found while I talked to my mother. They weren't Daichi.”

A small group started gathering around them, and Tanaka – loathing the tense feeling among their group – saw his chance to break the heavy mood. “Woah, woah, you took two guys out?!” he asked, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I demand a demonstration!”

“Oh, you don't wanna dare him,” Kuroo said. Tanaka rolled his shoulders. “It's already too late! What, Suga – are you scared?”

Something flashed in Suga's eyes that made Tanaka slightly regret this. “You did pick the wrong fight.” He carefully sat the heavy bags down and stepped a little away.

The circle around them gathered loosely, Hinata and Yachi seeming just relieved to see Suga back and in one piece, Saeko wolf-whistling at them, Yukie and Kaori leaned together, Yukie smiling and Kaori looking as if she wanted a go at this, too. Komi came running , a bundle of boundless energy next to Nishinoya, their energy combined causing a ruckus calling the last of them together.

Tanaka went into stance, making sure this was quite the show. The both of them circled around each other, dancing back and forth. Tanaka charged first, and he gravely regret ever underestimating Suga, because his arm was promptly twisted and Tanaka flipped horizntal into the air and dropped on his back. Suga put a knee to his chest, grinning down at him. “Care to try another round?”

The people around them burst into whistles and cheers. Tanaka could feel himself grin even when his head felt a bit rattled from the impact.

Yeah, that was their healer alright.

“Gotta admit it's more impressive to watch than to witness,” Diachi cut in, neatly side-stepping the swift retribution.

“You're lucky you're pretty,” Suga muttered darkly.

“Hey,” Kaori called, stepping forwards. “Care to spar with me?”

And thus, their evening escalated into a show of strength around camp. What started as Suga showing off quickly turned into a challenge of finding the most talented fighter among them. Tanaka and Nishinoya tossed together rules with Komi and Saru, adjusting them as needed and as the event went. Bets were placed and debts collected as people knocked each other into the dust.

Weapons were left out, only hand-to-hand combat allowed and measured for this.

Somehow, the one on one fights quickly turned into a challenge of who was stronger overall – Fukurodani or the forest clans. It was great fun.

Tanaka got his ass handed to him on a silver platter by Kaori, mostly because he was taken aback to see someone fight with the same style Kiyoko had taught Yachi. Watching Kaori and Yachi fight it out felt like watching forces of nature collide, but in the end, Yachi did not care enough about winning to throw her all into a fight – she fought for survival, not the mere joy of it. Tanaka high fived her enthusiastically when she joined him at their makeshift scoreboard – scratched into the dirt – and they surveyed the other fights together.

Bokuto and Kuroo were particularly vicious with each other, neither granting even an ounce to the other. In the end, they somehow managed to get each other into mutual headlocks, so they called it a tie. Kuroo went on to get kicked out by Daichi, and Bokuto eliminated Konoha.

Suga – begrudgingly losing against Akaashi – sat down next to Tanaka after a while. “You're incredible, you know,” he said. Tanaka grinned.

“Oh, am I? C'mon, I didn't do much.”

“You're taking everyone's minds off things. Unwinding like this before we head into enemy territory tomorrow … that's the best thing we could've done.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tanaka shot back, gaze lingering on Kuroo. “Dunno how you got him to stop thinking only of his loss, but it's doing wonders. I'm glad.” Kuroo and him weren't particularly close, but that didn't mean Tanaka would wish anything bad on him.

Suga shrugged. “He needed a distraction, I needed some support.”

Tanaka snorted. That easy, huh? “Well, glad this is working so well. So, what's in the bags?”

Suga did not bat an eyelash. “Booze.”

Tanaka barked an incredulous laugh, and even harder when Suga added: “The most fun part of this team morale exercise. I figured we could all need it.”

“So you raided your parents wine cellar, or what? After you threatened the guards?”

Suga's grin was devilish. “I asked my father nicely. And I got – this.” He twirled something between his fingers, before offering it to Tanaka on his open palm. It was a screw, and the obvious weight Suga attributed to it baffled Tanaka. The only thing that looked different about it was the head of it – instead of the usual carvings, this one had a zig-zagging line across it. It did not seem like the most practical of screws. “A mark to find someone who might help us get into the castle, given to me by my mother.”

Woah. Tanaka whistled. “Looks like you had a successful afternoon.”

“And since my dear husband got knocked into the dust by now,” Suga said, pushing to his feet. “Let's end this fighting and get to the real fun part.”

  


They ended up squeezing together around the fire, cups passed around and trying to make sense of the bottles Suga and Kuroo had grabbed, laughing along to the recounted story of trying to pick out the most expensive sounding ones one on purpose.

Kuroo popped the bottles open and went around pouring drinks for them. “Tonight, we drink to Tooru.” He looked melancholic as he said it, but determinedly made sure everyone got their fill, until he came to Saeko, who waved him off. “Not for me, big guy. Thanks.”

Kuroo hesitated, brow furrowing. “C'mon, woman. You drank me under the table for a dare. Don't tell me you can't raise a cup for a friend I lost.”

Saeko stared up at him, expression tight. “Ain't like I didn't know him, Kuroo.” That took Kuroo off guard. “But still … no drinks for me.”

“You must be shitting me -” Kuroo began, trailing off when Saeko sighed deeply and put a hand on her stomach. “No drinks for me,” she repeated, each word heavy. Akiteru wound a protective arm around her waist, and Kuroo went slack-jawed. Realisation rippled around the group slow, but steady. One moment there was silence, the next they burst into shouts and questions.

Nishinoya burst into tears while Tanaka sat frozen next to him, unable to believe it just yet. Saeko ducked her head under the attention, uncharacteristically flustered. “S'alright, y'all. Getting knocked up ain't something to get a medal for.”

Yachi tumbled into her arms and squeezed her tightly, and Kuroo danced away a little as more and more people got up to hug and swarm her, but he did not look sad – not only. He looked sad, and thoughtful, and happy for Saeko.

Daichi smiled. None of this was easy, on any of them, but life had these moments in store, too. At last Tanaka was sobbing as well, hanging off Saeko together with Nishinoya, who patted their backs so roughly it'd probably leave bruises. Tsukishima stood with his brother, eyes oddly alight for how desperately he tried to keep his expression in check.

It took them a while of congratulations and explanations before they settled down enough for Kuroo to pour the rest of them drinks, and refill those that had been spilled in the excitement.

In the end, they all raised their cups – to the memory of Oikawa Tooru, and the future of an unborn child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some parents you gotta cut out of your life 'cause they're fuckin toxic. Other parents won't ever be perfect and hurt you badly, but you love them too much to let them go, so you find some common ground. Family's a complicated thing. 
> 
> Please be kind, y'all.


End file.
